Something to Bond Over
by CA Hawkins
Summary: "I swear they just need, like, something to bond over, y'know? Some sort of traumatic event to send them into each other's arms." Joshua Washington was not alone in the Lair the night after the anniversary of his sister's disappearance. [JOSSAM. First Chapter features Schizophrenic Josh (Author is also Schizophrenic)]
1. The Healer

**JOSH; MINES; 21:19  
****FOURTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

No contact? Check. No supplies? Check. No food? Check. Cold? Check. Dark? Check. Monsters? Check check the flipping flippity check check. The perfect ingredients for a horror film, huh?

What? You think I'm missing some other elements to my perfectly cooked-up motion picture? That what I'm describing is lacking the perfect setting for a physiologically-simulating feature?

Oh please. Give me some credit. I'm not an amateur. The only reason you think that way is because I'm not really _telling _you anything—anything important—anything that _matters_. You have no idea what else I have with me.

Besides, I don't really know you all that well yet, and you'll just think I'm crazy. Ha! You probably already do, don't you? I wouldn't be surprised.

But more importantly, I don't think you're ready for it. Damn, bro, I don't even think that _I_ will _ever _be ready for it, you know? And I've experienced it plenty of times already, and everything's all right here with me.

Jesus, what a night, am I right? To the knight? 'Cause it's bright with a light that is white up a height with a kite on the site?

Oh oops, shit, sorry, man. I did it again. That's been happening to me a lot more often now. Just my brain being all messed-up and stuff, y'know?

Or not... Who the hell knows what's reality and not anymore anyways? Certainly not me! Ha! You should hear what the—er, never mind.

Back to the topic. Where were we? Oh yeah, my woes and self-pity.

So what else do you want to know? Oh no, wait a minute, you probably think I'm lying or making things up right now. I mean, I _did _say I didn't know the difference between reality and imaginary anymore, and it doesn't help that I'm a son of a Hollywood horror film mogul.

Well, you gotta trust me on this.

Wow, I'm a hypocrite, huh? Yeah, well, you're just gonna have to deal with it. You have no choice but to trust me. I mean, you're the one intruding in on my thoughts anyway. I think we could agree that I have the right to keep some things to myself, thanks.

So to answer: I am somewhere deep in the mines in Blackwood Pines with lots of vines which then declines assembly lines radical signs. _Fuck_. Shit. Sorry. My brain's _shit_. God.

Where was I? Oh, the mines. Well, it's the same mines the parents used to warn us about when we were younger. _Don't go deep into the woods, kids. The mines are too dangerous and we don't want you to get hurt. _And now I'm in the heart of it all.

In the past hours, I got well-acquainted with how dangerous this place can really be. And I'm not just talking about the monsters outside, or the lack of safety from the excavation, or the fragility of the environment.

No, it's what I'm left with—the only thing I have now: Nothing. I have nothing.

And I can't have _nothing _or _no one_. I'm not an alchemist, you know? I don't believe that something can only come from something. Sometimes, when you're left with nothing, something happens—something _forms_.

And here, in The Lair (as I have now come to call it), I find those _things _to be something to be fearful of.

I guess you want to know, huh?

Alright. Alright, fine. You win. I'll tell you. To be honest, even my psychiatrist had been telling me to talk more about it—that talking about it could actually help me more than it would destroy me. So you better not betray me in the end. I'll trust you so I'll tell you. I'll tell you. I'll trust you.

You see, Death has a way to taunt me.

I'm not talking about the idea of death. No, I'm talking about that bastard controlling the establishment of immortal punishment. That bastard is toying with me.

And no, this isn't some supernatural bullshit.

My current predicament may be a horror show waiting to be filmed, but it isn't _that _kind of horror show. What's out there, shrieking last night—those monsters, are horrible and ugly and scary as shit... but what's in here with me?

I see dead people.

Ha! _Sixth Sense _reference. Another horror film. Everything points back down to a horror film. My entire life points back down to a horror film. Damn, my whole freaking _life _is a horror film.

The monster last night was an animal, you know? A smelly human-like animal that is probably a human corpse brought to life by the moon or something. It's not—It can't be Han—God, I don't know. But it doesn't compare to the monsters here with—

"_Josh..._"

No.

No no no no no no no. They're waking up. They're waking up. You woke them up. You betrayed me. I knew it. You made me more vulnerable to them. I shouldn't have trusted you. You fed them and made them even stronger. I never should have told you anything.

"_Stop talking to them, Josh._"

They're leaving from the corners of The Lair. They're leaving from my peripheral vision and into the focus of my sight, and now they're walking towards me. You did this. You did this!

"No, no, get away."

"Josh?"

"No no no no no! Get away from me! Don't step any closer!"

Why did I sit down by the face of the cliff? Now, it's easier to trap me. No, no, I can't have another episode.

They're standing over me again, and god, I'm such a wuss. Here I am curled down at the corner of a cold rocky surface of a mountain like a typical brain-addled victim of a horror movie.

Because this _is _a horror movie.

My sisters can never be as rotten and ugly as these apparitions in front of me. No. That's _why _I know all of this is not real. My sisters are _beautiful_. These ones are _terrifying_.

"_You can't be friends with anyone again._"

My hands fly up to my ears before I could stop them. "Shut up!" I tell them for the nth time.

"_You'll just cause more damage than anything._"

"Shut. _Up_!"

I lash my arms out so _something _could happen. I never learn, though, do I? They just take a step back, already knowing what I'm gonna do before I do. Of course, they're in my head—my _subconscious_.

They're still staring at me, as if they're starving wolves coming across a deer—staring at me like that monster with Hannah's tattoo, before I yelled Hannah's name and spared my life last night. Like all of them, I know what they want, too.

"_You can't hurt us, Josh._"

"You're not doing this to me again!"

They're trying to manipulate me again. They're trying to control me again—planting thoughts in my head.

"_You don't need anyone else. With us, you'll be okay. You'll be okay, Josh. You don't want to be hurt anymore, do you?_"

"NO!"

They're trying to turn me into their puppet again—yell out their orders until I comply. They can't. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't want this.

"Josh, are you okay?"

Manipulative. They're all so manipulative.

"Josh—"

"Just leave me _alone_!"

They're just in my head. They're not real. They're not here. They're not in front of me. They're not with me. They're all dead. They are DEAD. They're dead. They're dead. They're dead.

"_Why do you keep pushing us away? You don't even want to be alone._"

Why can't they just go back to the corners again? Why can't they just go back to lingering somewhere in the corners of my eyes? Why do they have to come out of the shadows? Why do they want to taunt me?

"_All alone._"

I need my space. I don't want to deal with this right now.

"_Isolation. Your deepest fear._"

Why? Why are they back here again? Why so soon after last night?

"_STOP PUSHING US AWAY! YOU are the one hurting people, Josh. This is all on YOU!_ _It's always about YOU!_"

This is all your fault! You're the one who brought them back here! You made them want to come back! You did this! You brought them back!

"_So now you'll always be alone. __No one but us is here for you, Josh._"

There's only one thing left to do.

"Leave—"

_Whack_

"—me—"

_Whack_

"—alone."

_Whack  
__Whack  
__Whack_

I fall on my knees after standing up to hit my head on the rocky face of the cliff—the same cliff which I'm starting to feel was the place where my sisters died. They probably fell to their deaths because I couldn't lift a _goddamn finger to help anyone_.

God, my head hurts. Is... Is that blood? Or sweat? I don't know. Do I even have some fluid on my fingertips that came from my head, or am I just seeing and feeling things again? Probably. Well, that sucks, but that doesn't matter now.

They're gone.

I close my eyes to revel in the momentary silence. Doing this drowns them out. This trick is so much more painful here than the many times I did it on the desk in my bedroom in California—for obvious reasons.

They leave me alone whenever I hit my own head like that. Well, not completely, but they back off. I probably scare the hell out of them. Even the dead people in my head wouldn't want to deal with a crazy guy like me.

"Josh, you're scaring me."

_Shit._

I nearly had whiplash from how quick I turned around at the voice behind me. I _definitely _have pain on my back now from throwing myself back to the face of the cliff behind me.

I can't breathe. How do you breathe? Just inhale and exhale, right? But why is it so hard to do? I'm like a YouTube video that buffered halfway due to half-ass WiFi.

Because how... I mean, why... I c-can't believe this. It's...

It's Jess.

"Josh?"

How could she still be here?

"Josh, please."

Why didn't she go back to the corner she was curled up in like the rest of them?

"Josh—"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? HUH?!" I finally shout at her, making her step back in fear at my raised voice. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

Like the others, she has been away from me, curled up on the other side of The Lair, avoiding me after I managed to save myself from their first attack. She's been quiet all day—so different from the others.

So different from the real Jessica.

And she's as scared of me as I am scared of her. Unlike the others, she's not critical or mean. She's _genuinely _scared of me. I can see it in her wide panicked eyes—the eyes of a prey looking at a predator. She's looking at me like that right now.

I killed Jess and now she has come back to haunt me.

Sorry, I mean '_it_'. _It _has come back to haunt me. _It_, not _she_. _It _is not human. No, _it _is just a pigment of my imagination—here to hold on to my guilt. Its lingering presence is here to drive me insane.

If it tortures me with guilt, why don't I just stop feeling guilty over killing her?

Walking away from where I stood still, I slowly walk over to _it_, and it walks backwards in fear. I let my hand linger on the cliff behind me—too dizzy but I don't let that stop me.

This is the first time I've come to really look at the new addition to the whirlpool of people I've killed.

The others are already decaying, burnt, and sinister. They can peel their faces off. They're completely covered in fresh pig's blood. Their bones are visible. Their muscles eaten. They're not human. They're corpses—all ugly and terrifying.

Fake-Jess, on the other hand, is so... _alive_—dried blood, wounded, beaten down, and broken. That's how Fake-Hannah and Fake-Beth started out, too.

The first time they appeared, they looked exactly how they did on the day before they disappeared—mischievous and clean and _alive_... but just as timid as Fake-Jess. Fake-Hannah would cry on her bed back home, and Fake-Beth would comfort her.

Slowly, they started decaying, but the change was much more drastic when the term "missing" turned into "dead" whenever people kept talking about my sisters when they thought I wasn't listening.

Hannah and Beth—my little sisters—both of whom I killed.

Same with Jess now, too. I killed her, didn't I? Mike said that, didn't he? That I'm a goddamned murderer? I just didn't remember it? God, that's messed-up. I'm _messed-up._

I probably killed Mike, too. He was down here with me, right? Then he just disappeared in the water? Did I drown him? Choke him to death underwater?

Was Mike even with me last night?

"Josh?"

Is this what she looked like when I killed her?

Look at it, staring at me in fear—like I'm an animal. No, I'm worse than that. I mean, look at it. It's backing away from me. It's sickening—seeing all the cuts and bruises. I move forward even when it hits its back on the other side of The Lair, moving its head away from mine as I looked at it in the eye.

I'm so... angry.

I mean, look at how much _damage _I've done. What _have _I done? It's so scared of me. It's so hurt. The implication of my actions... What did I do to the real Jessica to make her look like this?!

"Josh, please don't hurt me," Fake-Jess begs.

No.

No, I refuse. This is not what I do. I don't kill people. No, this is all bullshit. I couldn't have done this to Jessica. I couldn't do that. I _don't _do that.

I back away from Fake-Jess.

She's not real. She's just here to make me go crazy with guilt—to mess with my head the same way I messed with the others'. She's here as my punishment for something I don't regret.

I couldn't have killed her. I couldn't. That's not me. They just want me to think that way. They just want to see me suffer. This is my punishment for going through with my game, and then for not doing it the way I planned it.

But I'm not a killer. I'm a healer.

I bring people together, right? A healer, yes. Yes, I'm a healer. I'm a healer. I'm a healer. Just a bringer. No more fever. Not a killer. Not a killer. Just a killer. I'm a killer. I'm a killer. I'm a killer.

"No! Stop it!" I yell, clutching at my messed-up head.

It's planting thoughts in my head again. My brain is a madhouse, and you triggered its alarms. I can't keep up with any of this.

It's too loud—too loud—TOO LOUD!

My legs can't handle my weight anymore and shit, my knees took the fall on that one. Sorry, knees, I'll make it up to you in the future.

"_Killer..._"

"Stop saying that, okay?" Okay. Okay. Okay. We're okay. We're okay. We heal people. I heal people. "Yes, I do! Gotta give me some patients, and I'll give 'em all a good ol' kiss good night! Ha... Ha ha... Y-yeah, yeah... Make 'em all brand new for just a few too-dah-loo-WHOO-HOO-HOO!"

"Josh, what's wrong? Please—"

NOOOOOOOOOO

"What?!"

NO NO NO NO NO HOW DID SHE DO THAT?!

"Josh, what the fuck are you talking about?!"

THEY DON'T DO THAT BUT HOW DID _SHE _DO THAT?!

"What the hell do you mean?!"

HOW COULD SHE TOUCH ME?!

"Josh, I'm alive! Shit, Josh, I'm alive! Stop that!"

THIS IS IT! I'M OFFICIALLY GOING INSANE!

"You didn't kill me, Josh! Jesus, stop saying that!"

HOW HOW HOW HOW HOW

"Fucking shit, Josh! Stop clawing yourself! Fuck!"

My head and face hurts. I pull myself away from the ground since I am apparently hitting my own head on it, and look up at scared but concerned gray eyes.

How is she here? How could she have touched me first? Logic. Shit, I need my wits back together.

How do you breathe again? I always forget how to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In and out. God, I can't do it.

"Josh, listen to me. You did _not _kill me. Jesus, is this why you've been ignoring me all day?"

I blink because that's all I can do. I can't move. I'm stuck. I just can't stop look at her—it—her. Shit, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. My eyes are unfocused and stuck, and my body is just responding to it. I'm locked in this position.

"Josh... Josh, I..."

It drops to its knees in front of me, and the movement forces me out of my catatonic state.

I don't think it did that so it could be close to me.

It's in pain.

The others—they're never in pain—not like this. They don't try to hide it. They taunt me with their pain. In fact, the others aren't here with me, too. It's the only one here with me.

_She _is the only one here with me.

Holy shit.

Jessica.

She's real.

She's alive.

_I didn't kill her._


	2. The Protector

**MIKE; BLACKWOOD STATION; 21:24  
****FOURTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

It's only been half a day since I lost both Jess and Josh. It's only been half a day since I was too slow. It's only been half a day since I abandoned them. It's only been half a day since I left them both to die.

Fuck.

What excuse do I have? Oh, right, that I had to think of the others first... right? I mean, I couldn't have—Well, there's nothing I could have done...

I thought... I thought Jess was dead, and that the maniac who killed her was still going around killing us off one by one. I had to warn the others, right?

And with Josh... Fuck, I mean, I wanted to save him. I really did, but there's nothing I could have done. I was scared as _fuck_, and it would have been stupid if both of us died back there. I... I had to think and act quickly, right? Right? I had to do something that would benefit everyone, right?

Oh, who am I kidding? I wasn't thinking straight. Losing Jess and losing Josh were both my fault. They were with me; they were taken; and I wasn't fast enough to save them. And Josh... Fucking shit mama Jesus.

"_M-Mike? Don't h-hit me p-please._"

Fuck. The way he said it... The look on his face... Josh pleading _me _for mercy when we were under the threat of those fucking wendigos. That will haunt me for years to come—almost as much as whatever the fuck happened to us back up the mountain.

I'm a whole other kind of monster, but a monster nonetheless.

I mean, who tortures their innocent friends? Sure, Josh did _exactly _that with Chris and Sam, but Chris also said that the bastard was sick. _I _don't have any kind of illness to explain my actions.

And even after all that happened last night, I'm surprised I still have some of my sanity. Although, I guess I won't be stepping a foot in a hospital for a long _long _time.

"_Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel once one year ago! Only guess what? They didn't get to laugh it off! No! Nope! No no! They're gone!_"

Christ, Josh's words are really starting to sink in. With what happened last night, I definitely do not like feeling those things. So much changed because of that original prank we did—the prank to humiliate Hannah's crush on _me_—on _ME_. God, I am such a douche.

No, I'm a monster.

God, what else have I done to Josh and his family? Knocked him out for something he didn't even do? Called him a murderer and never listened to him? Thought him capable of killing someone—killing _Jess_? Tortured him before tying him up in that shed? All the while, him losing his mind from stress?

I mean, Josh and I were cool buds before I fucked it all up by going along with that prank on Hannah. He wasn't really the manliest of the group, and I remember that one serious talk we had.

We were on cans of beer at the time. God, how old were we then? Fourteen? Fifteen? I didn't really understand what he was talking about, but he was telling me about fighting for something. I promised him I would protect him from when "times get tough." Jesus, how long was his depression going on for?

Now, I added trauma to Josh before he... All the things I did are cruel... and it's not just him I did something horrible to.

I nearly killed Em, too.

I knew I was ready to do it. I was in the middle of that stupid moral dilemma—killing one life to save plenty of others, in this case, Ashley, Chris, and Sam. I'm not surprised why Emily's been giving me hateful looks. I pointed a gun to her eye, for fuck's sake.

Fuck, I really am a monster.

I'm never gonna be free from this guilt, am I? I'm not even going to complain at this point. I deserve every single second of its torture.

I'm surprised the others are still looking at me even after finding out about Jess and Josh. Although Em told them, it would be expected of me, considering I'd do anything to help the greater good first rather than an individual.

Her words are really fucking with me right now.

The six of us remaining—we nearly died last night. Now, we are all in our own bubble here at the station while we wait for our parents to pick us up.

Right now, I'm sitting on my own—far away from everyone else—forearms resting on my thighs, hands clasped, and staring down at the floor so I don't have to see the others either.

I can't handle their tiredness—the dead and haunted looks on their features. Their eyes are blank and empty now. We were a group of wild partying teenagers, and now we will never be the same again. We saw too much in this one night, and now we've all grown too much too quickly.

There's a reason I was chosen Class President. I care too much about the members of my leadership—my followers—those I've sworn to protect.

And I swore to protect my friends.

I guess I failed that, too. Not only did I basically kill Jess and Josh, and nearly shot Em in the face, it was my fault the wendigos broke free, right? I opened their locks and jail cells and shit. Fuck.

I couldn't save any of us from this night. Hell, everything is my fault, to be honest. Sure, we're alive but how are we gonna continue on with what we know? With what we've seen?

This is going to bite us all in the ass. I can already feel it.

Still, only six of us made it out alive, and I can't help but feel bitterness and a huge amount of longing, considering how the relationships within our group changed when we left Blackwood Pines.

Look at the couples at the other side of the room—cuddling with their respective partners—seeking comfort from each other, touching hands, rubbing their arms unconsciously as a ground zero for reality.

Matt finally found some fucking self-respect, and to my surprise, managed to get Emily to admit what a total bitch she can be. She even apologized to everyone ("Except you, Michael. You can go suck my ass, you prick!") for it.

Chris and Ashley finally got together. I mean, Josh is one crazy fucked-up son of a bitch but hey, his plan worked. Thinking back, his plan is _genius_. I never doubted his thoughtfulness but I never expected his... complexity.

"_Guess you never really know someone unless you scare the pants off 'em,_" Jess said.

Fuck, I miss Jess. I fucking miss her so much already. I never really...

It's different after all that happened. Before, well, teenagers are teenagers. Teenagers date for the sake of dating. Teenagers date each other because they are attracted, infatuated, or something. Things weren't really completely serious. It wasn't life or death. It wasn't... It wasn't _love_.

That's what Jess was to me. That's what I thought she was to me. I mean, I knew I really liked her. She's amazing. She's strong, sharp, and she's incredibly confident with herself. She knows how to hold herself. I was crazy for her.

But I never knew how much she really meant to me until now.

God, I should have... We could have... I want nothing more than to touch her again—not even for sex. I just want to hold her again—see that she's alive. Fuck, I miss her. I want her by my side. I can't believe I left her to die. I left Jess to die. What the fuck have I done?

"You okay?"

I stand up, lashing out in surprise at the sudden touch on my arm—ready to fight whatever it is I need to defend my friends from.

I don't want any more deaths. Not on my watch.

"Mike, it's okay! It's okay!" I hear, looking at equally tired and haunted eyes on the person standing in front of me with hands raised towards me—body language for _CALM DOWN_.

Sam.

"Jesus, fucking shit," I gasp, trying to lower my beating heart. "That mountain's already fucking with my head," I groan, throwing myself down on the seat I occupied.

"I see them every time I blink, so I get what you're saying," she replies, sitting down on the space beside me.

I look at her and then at the other four who are now turning their heads away from me.

Ashley buries her face on Chris's side and he protectively hugs her. Emily is rubbing her own arms, and Matt pulls her in, his lips on her head. All of them with distant eyes.

No doubt, my little scene is now making each of them wonder how they'll be reacting to a similar situation.

I'm seriously fucking them up more.

"What did you want?" I ask Sam, recalling the reason for my scene.

"I was just gonna ask if you were okay, which I now think is a stupid question," she replies casually. That's what I like about Sam, too. She doesn't judge.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," I joke as I try to still my still shaking hands.

"Ahhh, we're about the same, then," Sam replies, nodding.

I forgot that Sam is just about the worst in expressing her emotions between the group—almost as bad as Josh, now that I know how much he'd hidden from us.

Josh. Hiding his emotions.

No, there can't be any more Joshes within the group. I need to give what's best for our group, and this won't help Sam.

I take a deep breath. "Sam, about Josh—" I pause, not really knowing how to continue.

"What about Josh?" she asks quietly.

I can feel my lips tremble in anticipation. "Look, I'm really sorry about—"

She shakes her head frantically. "Don't, Mike. Just don't."

I'm not gonna let her take this all in on her own. Chris and Ashley had been talking to each other about what happened in the lodge. Sam's been quiet the whole day.

"No, seriously, he shouldn't have—"

"It doesn't matter what he shouldn't have done," she interrupts me again.

Fuck. The guilt is back. She's right. It doesn't matter now what Josh shouldn't have done. He's dead now because of me—because I left him to die in the mines.

"...I shouldn't have—"

"Mike," she tensely cuts me off for the one hundredth time, "there's a lot of things we wish should and should not have happened back up there. Can you just... _stop _apologizing?" She sighs tiredly. "You've been doing that since we left the lodge."

I didn't even notice I've been doing that.

"Maybe it's because I _should_ be apologizing," I tell her honestly.

"If that's your way to cope, then fine. We forgive you. Are you okay, now?" she asks me pointedly.

"No," I admit, "but it's a start."

She shrugs. "Yeah, maybe," she says tensely.

A beat. Or two.

"Fuck, I miss her," I blurt out in real life.

I hate that my voice cracked. I just opened my vulnerability, but I can't hold it in anymore. I miss her so much.

"Jess?" she asks in a whisper.

I sigh then clear my throat. I don't want to cry. I have the gravest feeling that if I even let a tear slip up, I'll start sobbing and I won't be able to stop.

"Yeah," I whisper, "I want her here, you know? By my side." I look at the other couples, perfectly cocooned at their own respective worlds—Sam and I completely forgotten.

"I get that," Sam replies with an odd tone in her voice.

I turn to look at her. She, too, is looking at the others. I don't really see what the expression is on her face, but from what I heard, I think I can tell.

"Josh?" I ask her quietly. Her head moves quickly, and she stares at me for a long moment but she doesn't reply. "I never knew you..." I let it go, not wanting to label something I don't know yet.

She snorts. "Yeah, me neither," she admits.

So I left the guy she was having feelings for to die. Fuck this guilt, seriously. It's eating me alive.

"Sam?"

"...Yeah?"

"I'm _really _sorry."

She gives me a look. "I told you to stop apologizing. I already told you I accepted your apology. We were all scared witless, Mike. Stop apologizing for things you can't control."

"Then why am I feeling guilt then?" I nearly spit out.

She shrugs casually. "I guess that's something you'll have to find out on your own."

My mouth closes up on its own before I retort. I suppose that year with Josh made her immune to outbursts of anger or whatever.

I sigh. "So you and Josh, huh?"

Sam shakes her head, looking away—down, up, anywhere but at me. She really doesn't like opening up about her feelings.

"God, I don't know. I explained myself to the police already. I told them that I thought we had a... a connection or something," she laughs humorlessly. "I guess I'll never know that, huh?"

"You did," I finally tell her. She turns to look at me—attention full. "I was one of Josh's friends, you know. The guy himself doesn't know he likes you. Chris and I've been trying to hook you two up."

Her lip twitches slightly. "Really?" she mocks.

"Yeah," I say seriously, nudging her elbow slightly with my elbow, "Matt and I were planning to beat Chris up for getting Josh passed out on the night of—" my mouth dries up "—the night of the prank."

Sam looks away at that.

"Nothing bonds you more than a traumatic event," she whispers, lost in her thought.

I don't think she even knew she said it out loud.

"Hey, Sam," I interrupt her thoughts. I don't want her ending up like me—filled with guilt. "Thanks for having my back up there. I could've died if it wasn't for you. You saved me like... a billion times."

Sam sighs, shaking her head again. "Stop exaggerating."

"No, I mean it, seriously," I tell her, nudging her elbow with mine again. "Thanks."

She shakes her head. "You would've done the same thing for me. God, you almost even shot Emily for us. It's stupid and nearly cost us an innocent life, but we appreciate the sentiment behind it."

Fuck. The guilt's eating away my stomach again. I'm a fucking murderer.

I can't believe I kept telling Josh to his face that he's a fucking murderer but who really keeps pointing guns at people's faces but me?

"That's still fucked up of me to do it," I admit to her, looking at Emily who's quietly talking to Matt as they sit beside each other.

"Yeah, it was," Sam replies quietly.

I forgot how honest Sam can be, and how much she hates violence. I guess it shouldn't have been a surprise that she was the only one who tried to stop me from shooting Emily in the head. I'm glad I listened to her.

"I can't believe everything just happened this morning," she suddenly says, bringing me back to reality. "It feels it's both still happening and that it happened a lifetime ago."

"I know," I wholeheartedly agree. "It's just about half a day since we burned down the lodge... I wonder what the Washingtons will say about that."

"I wonder what they will say when their last child is gone," she says out loud.

Fuck.

"Eight fucking hours," I grumble under my breath.

"What?"

"From what I was told, the whole fucking thing happened in about eight hours," I recall the talk the rest of us had while Sam was being questioned.

"Eight hours? Geez," she says, shaking her head.

"I know. Eight hours fucked up the rest of our lives... Fuck, you saw me a moment ago. What'll happen if someone taps me on the shoulder again? What'll I do? Hit them over the head, too?" I tell her.

"Yeah, we're gonna have to deal with it. I'll probably stop having long baths. Quick showers will be better for me, I guess."

"Fuck, I'd give anything to rewind time."

"Get Jess and Josh back," she whispers, looking at nothing.

"Yeah," I say, my throat drying, "get Jess and... and Josh... Get them both back." I take a deep breath. "They'll find them. They can't be dead. They'll find them."

"Mike," she whispers, "it's nine in the evening. You know what those monsters are capable of."

"Sam, let me have this."

"All right. All right. Mike, just... Just don't let out too much hope, okay?"

"Fuck, Sam... I... I miss Jess."

"I know you do... and... I'm gonna miss Josh."

"I know you do."


	3. The Prankster

**JESSICA; MINES; 21:37  
****FOURTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

Josh is not my favorite person amongst our group of friends, but he isn't my least favorite either.

When I came down in this part of the mines and saw him, I thought I was saved from... I don't know, really... but I felt the relief course through me as if someone doused me with a warm shower after tonight's rendezvous with near death. Apparently not, though.

Josh scared the fuck out of me.

I can only remember two moments when I was scared because of Josh. First was the moment he found out that the twins were gone, and the second was the moment he found out that most of us were in on the prank that led to the disappearance.

Josh was devastated when he found out that the twins were gone. He ran out of the lodge before we could even finish telling him anything else—before we could finish telling him that we already tried everything we could to find them. I could tell he was still hungover when he woke up but that didn't stop him from running out. That scared the shit out of me—his extreme love for his sisters and those he cares about.

But then we told him how it happened. We told him why Hannah ran out, and why we didn't run after her and let Beth do it alone. That time, he didn't run anymore. Oh no, he kept silent, got up, and left the room. A few moments later, we heard crashes in the room next to us.

It takes a lot to anger Joshua Washington, and hey, we achieved it at a very high price.

We knew the anger he was taking out on everything was directed at us. Every crash and every yell made me flinch back then, knowing that those were our fault. Despite that, we couldn't believe Josh's self-control with the situation. If it was me, I would have thrown the things at _us_ instead at blank walls and floors. He was furious, and I didn't want Josh to hate us. I don't know what happens when a kind guy hates you. Josh really scared the bejesus out of me that time.

But earlier? This surpasses those two moments entirely.

When I showed myself up, he looked at me and backed up, screaming for dear life as if he saw a ghost. Well, knowing what I know now, it makes sense that he actually _thought _he saw a ghost.

I watched him all day. He kept muttering to himself—and sometimes even actually talking to people who aren't there. I thought the mountains really got into his head—that it broke him. I didn't know what else to do, so I kept out of his way.

He was scaring me because I could see him rocking himself at the other side of this part of the mines—just under the sunlight as if someone put a spotlight on him for extra effect. I thought he really lost his marbles. I didn't know what to do. So, I just watched him and stayed in my corner of this chamber or something. Even though Josh was being... was like that, I didn't want to leave him alone.

Or more accurately, I didn't want to be alone.

If I was going to be with a mind-deteriorated Josh, then so be it. He is still my friend, and I came up here because we were going to help him get through Hannah's and Beth's disappearances.

But then Josh started yelling into the darkness—something about getting away from him, and not doing "this" to him again. He really scared the fuck out of me when he just stood up and hit his own head on the face of the cliff. Then he saw me, and I don't know what happened but suddenly he's kneeling on the ground, head bent down and him clawing his own face.

What I didn't take into account was him attacking me when I put my hand on his shoulder a few minutes ago. I suppose touching a person going through some sort of episode is a big no-no. I guess I'm going to take note of that from now on. At least, when it comes to Josh. Hell, even I don't want to be touched by some person I didn't see either.

Thank God that's over. Right now, I'm allowing Josh's shoulder to touch mine—a form of physical contact and a source of warmth and comfort from the cold.

Josh, ever so kind, gave me his overalls. Thankfully, he had his own clothes under those overalls. "I needed to look big, so I wore three layers underneath," he told me cryptically.

He even cut parts of one of his shirts to wrap them around the worst of my wounds. I think I even heard him muttering something about having at least one good thing coming out of the ever cryptic "this". I'll make sure to dig into that later.

"I still can't believe you're alive—that you're real," Josh whispers for the millionth time, shaking his head as he looks forward at the distant.

"Did the mountains really get you this crazy? Of course, I'm real," I joke.

He looks away. Bad joke, then. My mouth closes up on their own, remembering his episode not too long ago. Nope, definitely a bad, bad joke.

"Josh, seriously," I start with a voice I didn't expect to be so gentle, "did you really think you killed me?"

Josh sighs, closing his eyes before turning to look at me. He opens his mouth to say something before he closes it up again.

I know what that means. I've seen enough boys to understand the pattern. He's considering his words carefully—wanting to give me the perfect reply to sound—Well, with the boys, it's always to sound impressive, but with Josh? How does he want to sound like with a question like that? A liar or a... what?

"Josh?" I insist, and I practically see him mentally flinch when I called his name. "Please don't tell me you think that you're capable of murder."

"Okay," he finally speaks up with a deep breath. "Look, I—" he pauses.

He's still considering his words, but I've put enough pressure for him to lessen his filter. It always works with anyone who tries to flirt with me—or talk to me, for that matter.

"I thought my—Look, I don't know, okay? I wasn't exactly..." He sighs.

"Exactly what?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know... Of sound mind and body?" he suggests.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Josh, but you are too much of a cinnamon roll to kill me... or anyone, really," I tell him with a small smile.

He gives me a small look. "A cinnamon roll?"

"Yeah, you know... a cinnamon roll."

"_Me_?" he asks indignantly.

"Yeah, someone so sweet and worthy of several cuddles that you have to wrap them in blankets and pillows to protect them from his cold dark Earth," I explain with a smile.

Silence.

"Yeah, I think I'd want to be a cinnamon roll right now."

I blink once. Twice. Thrice.

My smile falls. "That's not what I—Yeah, I suppose... Me, too," I whisper the last part, shivering at the cold.

At the shiver, Josh quickly moves to wrap an arm around me but slowly places them as to not jostle most of my wounds. He's always been thoughtful. I'm so glad I found a friend.

"What happened to you?" Josh asks me quietly. "Jess? Last night? What happened to you last night?"

I look away for a moment, not really sure how much to say to someone already so... broken up.

"Come on, Jess. You can tell me anything," he tells me, squeezing his hand on my arm, rubbing it to give me comfort. I never knew how much I needed human interaction until now.

"It was some kind of... monster."

Josh sucks in a breath. He knows about the monster!

"What do you know about them?" I insist. If he brought us up here to get us all killed... I... I...

"Ha—The m-monster dragged me here, actually. I think it's its lair or something."

Oh, well, shit, so he didn't know about them either. Good. I don't know what I'd do if that was his plan all along. Josh is so much better than that—better than most of us anyways.

Still, why the fuck is this stupid mountain full of bad luck?

"It dragged me here, too. In the mines, I mean..." I offer, not really knowing why. Oh hi, we were both dragged by some fucking monster. Let's have a party! God, I miss parties.

"From the cabin?" Josh adds, bringing me away from my dreams of partying. "Yeah, I heard."

Heard?! From who? The only one who was in the cabin was—

"Mike," I whisper. "Mike, he... He came for me."

"Yeah, he told us," he replies with an edge to his tone.

Mike. I love him. I love him so much. He did everything he could to find me. I've never seen someone so devoted for me—so loyal to me. I love him. I love Michael so much I feel like I couldn't breathe from the emotion.

As such, I could feel my eyes well up with tears. "Is... Is he okay?" I ask in a small voice.

"I don't know," Josh says.

"Why don't—"

"Look, I'm just gonna say the elephant in the room: I'm not a good source of information. But if everything that I saw actually happened last night..."

"What?"

"Then... Then Mike was going to help me get out of this place but—" he stops himself, looking at me.

"But?"

He's doing it again—considering his words.

"But he didn't," he finally says with a sigh.

Why would he think too much about that? Unless he... Oh, he got dragged here by the monster _alone _when Mike was supposed to help him out... He's... He's...

"H-he's dead, isn't he?" I whimper. "M-Mike's dead?"

"Jess, we don't know that."

"Josh, what did you _see_? You have to tell me."

"Look, the-the monster... It wasn't interested in Mike. I just... We were in the water. Then suddenly, he was dragged underwater, and a second later, it came up and dragged me here. There's a big, big chance that Mike's still alive. The time difference was too short, even for a monster that quick," he deduces thoughtfully.

That's Josh. Intelligent and analytical when it comes to terrifying moments. I mean, even I won't think too hard enough on why the fall from the elevator shaft didn't kill me.

"What else did Mike tell you? Did he tell you anything about me?" I ask before thinking back. "You told me that he told you about me being taken?" I ask him, my full attention towards him.

"Y-yeah," he replies with an edge to his tone, putting his head down and crossing his arms as he does so. "That's it, really," he lies.

What could have Mike told him?

"Josh," I persist.

"What?" he asks me tiredly.

"What did Mike tell you about me and the cabin?" I ask him with a scared tone.

"I told you, it was nothing. He just said that someone took you from the cabin, and that he tried to run after you," he replies defensively.

Something's wrong with what he said.

"You said 'someone' but we both know it was 'something', Josh. What aren't you telling me?"

Josh sighs and turns to look at me. He raises his hand and points at the bruises on his forehead.

"Mike hit me."

My eyes widen at that. I thought that the bruises were from the monster, or from someone else. I never would have expected them to come from Mike. Especially with the fact that Mike had promised everyone that he will protect them. I always joked about his "protecting people" thing. It's noble of him, to be honest. It's an attractive part of him, too.

So, him, hitting Josh in the head? Josh, the sweetest though fondly grossest guy in our group?

"Is that all he did?" I ask him.

He hesitates but he shakes his head as a "no." Before I ask him what Mike did, he tells me, "Let's not go with the specifics, okay? I'm not... I don't like them either."

"But why would he—?" I pause.

Josh turns to look at me with a grave look in his eyes. "Jess, can we not talk about this?"

"No. No, we are _so _talking about this. I don't like being kept in the dark about these things. You have to tell me what's going on."

"I... It was..."

"What?"

"I was going to prank you, guys, too."

I feel a shiver creep up my spine at that. When I said that I felt fear when it comes to the wrath of Joshua Washington, well, I'm feeling it now, again.

"P-prank us? What's this got to do with Mi—"

Josh sighs. "We have time. To understand this, we have to start at the very beginning."

I look at him for a moment before I nod for him to continue.

"I... I was angry at you, guys, about the prank that led to... that lead to all of this. So, I planned an elaborate prank to punish those that needed punishing. It was going to be a good short film. I was going to post it on YouTube and everything. It was perfect," he says wistfully before shaking his head.

Josh's love for film and directing is something we all know. Last year, he suggested we vlog our whole party, and we were gonna do it. We were known in the whole school, and that might've even boost our fame—make us well known vloggers. But it all went down to shit when I did that stupid prank.

"Anyway," Josh continues, bringing me back to his explanation, "it started when I faked a seance with a Ouija board with Chris and Ash. I made them believe that my sister was killed and that there's proof around the area. I made elaborate contraptions to scare Chris and Ashley around the lodge. Then I was gonna chase and catch Sam in the lodge to bait Chris and Ashley while they look around for clues."

I take a deep breath. The information was overwhelming me. But more importantly, I can't believe Josh did this. _Josh_.

"I didn't catch her, though. Still, I got Ash, and I made Chris choose between me and Ash."

"...What do you mean by—"

"There was a saw coming between me and Ash. He has to choose which one to live and die."

"Shit, Josh," I blurt out.

Josh closes his eyes at my outburst but something else forms in my head.

"Who... Who did Chris pick?"

He sighs. "Ashley, of course."

"Oh, Josh," I whisper.

"Yeah, well, I know it sucks. Let's carry on, shall we?"

He's hiding how much that hurt him. I already know that Chris and Josh are best friends. Hell, we all tease them as each other's lover. I can't believe Chris would choose Ashley over Josh, but then again, he's been pining over Ashley for God knows how long. Even Sam with—

Wait, hold on a minute. "You said you chased Sam and you made Chris choose between his two best people..."

"...Yeah... What is it?"

"Why them? Sam tried to stop us, and Chris was passed out drunk at the night of the... that night. Josh, you targeted the wrong people."

Josh looks away. "Yeah, I know."

"Josh, what the fuck?"

"Look, it's... I don't know, okay? I mean, I told you... The filming was perfect. After Chris chose, I caught them again and they thought they were gonna get sawed again unless Chris chooses to shoot either himself or Ashley. It was perfect. They even confessed their feelings with each other. And Sam... She gets to be the final girl. The one chased but the one who wins in the end. The one who gets to take the monsters away, you know?"

Ohhh... "So, you think this will help them? What is this, a thank-you prank?"

"No. I meant to make you all feel as humiliated as Hannah did and as panicked as Beth did a year ago. With Chris and Sam... I wanted them to have the happy ending. I don't know. Maybe, you're right. Fuck, I don't know."

"Jesus, Josh."

"It all went wrong when Mike came in and hit me on the head with the butt of a gun..." he ends with a whisper. I don't even want to comment about Mike having a gun.

"He thought your prank with me is so much worse than that, didn't he?" He stays quiet. "He thought you killed me. That's why he hit you, didn't he? And you started to believe it?" He nods morosely at that.

"I'm glad he was wrong," he replies quietly.

Now, his episode makes much more sense. "_I KILLED YOU! YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'RE DEAD! I KILLED YOU! GET AWAY FROM MY HEAD! I KILLED YOU!_" he yelled when he was clawing his own face out. God, that really scared the crap out of me.

But another thing came to mind:

"Mike thinks I'm dead," I say, tears coming out of my eyes despite my best efforts not to.

"They all probably think the two of us are dead," Josh replies plainly.

"So, we might not get rescued?" I deduce in horror.

"Fuck, you're right," Josh says before he stands up. "We gotta find a way out of the mines."

"But the... the monster..."

"Shit... er... Let's just... Do it in the morning, I guess? When there's sunlight. Better that way, yes?"

I nod in reply. A lump in my throat forms and before I know it: "Josh, I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry about the prank. I'm sorry about Hannah and Beth... I'm so sorry!" I sob on his shoulder, grabbing the front of his shirt as I cling on to him for dear life. I want him to get the message.

I want him to know how truly deeply sorry I am.

I did a terrible thing. I extorted a friend's feelings without caring about what it might do to her, and now it led to their disappearances, or possible deaths, if I'm being honest.

It takes me a while to realize that someone is rubbing my shoulders and telling me to stop crying.

"Don't be sorry, Jess. I have something to confess to you, too," Josh starts nervously.

"W-what?" I ask, my voice still shaky from weeping.

"You never asked what prank I had planned for you and Mike."

I keep silent, not really knowing what else to say. He's right. I never asked. What could be worse than being traumatized with saws and pretending your best friend is dead?

"The cabin has cameras around."

I suck in a breath. "Party like we're fucking porn-stars," I quote him. "You were gonna film us, too, like how we filmed Hannah taking her shirt off."

Josh nods before looking away.

"I... I would've deserved it," I whisper.

I'm surprised Josh didn't get whiplash at how quick he turned to look at me.

"No," he told me, "everything we did. No one deserved that."

I nod solemnly before laughing. "God, Josh, we're fucked up, huh?"

"I guess we are."


	4. The Martyr

**CHRIS; BLACKWOOD STATION; 21:52  
****FIFTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

So, it's ten minutes to ten, which means it's about fifteen hours since we barely managed to get out of the Washington Lodge alive. God, I can't even think straight because my mind keeps coming back to the images of fire, those fucking wendigos... and deaths. So many deaths in one night.

The only thing anchoring me in this existence is the feel of this beautiful girl on my left, burying herself in my arms.

"Hey, Ash?" I whisper in her ear.

"Yeah?" she whispers back, her fist closing in on my blue jacket as if speaking at all will result in something we don't want to happen.

After the need to stay still and quiet unless you want to fucking die, I can understand the left-over fear. Even Mike—the one who sort of became our leader at the time of distress—nearly hit Sam in the face half an hour ago just from a touch on the shoulder.

Goddamn, I don't know what I would do if someone tries to scare the shit out of me.

Would I think they're a wendigo, too? Would I try to hold whatever-it-is-I'd-be-holding up like a shotgun to someone's face whenever someone startles me? Who the fuck knows? I didn't really think about it until Mike lashed out. Now, it's stuck in my head along with everything else.

Ashley hasn't been doing better. She's still shaking from time to time.

"How are you holding up?" I ask her for the hundredth time because I really want to make sure she's okay. No, I _need _to make sure she's okay.

Well, not _okay_-okay. We all know we're not. Not after last night. At least, I want to make sure she's not spiraling down that dark hole of thoughts of wendigos and fires... and death.

Ash's shaky breath and the tug on my jacket brings me out of my own dark thoughts and I let out a heavy sigh.

She doesn't answer me this time. She doesn't need to. Her answer's gonna be the same anyway.

Instead of forcing her to say anything else, I tell her, "Yeah, me, too," kissing her on the top of her head.

A part of me is fucking thrilled that I get to do things like these now—show Ashley how much she means to me without hesitating like I did in the past—and that she is responding positively to my gestures.

But then a part of me reminds me how I got this far—how Ashley and I got together in the first place—how we even got to know each other's feelings. Then, a part of me is now back in the lodge, reminded of everything that happened there—both the real and the faked.

And then I go back to ground zero. Ready to detonate at any second.

Josh... Goddamn shit, my best friend is fucking dead. I... I still can't believe it... along with Jess and that guy with the flamethrower... I never even knew his name.

I can't stop thinking about them. All three of them.

That guy with the flamethrower—I can't stop thinking about how he died... and I saw it with my own two eyes. I can't stop thinking about how his head got cut off with one swipe from the wendigo.

I can't stop thinking about how I could have been him.

I could have been the one with his head cut off. I was lucky enough to have been standing where I was standing, and he was unlucky enough to stand where he stood. If I hadn't been faster than him, I would have been the one who is dead.

A butterfly effect that could have changed a lot right now.

And fuck, Josh and Jess are both probably dead the same way, too, now. It's ten in the evening. The wendigos probably caught them by now and are feasting on them. Fuck. Fuck. What did that man say wendigos do?

"_He will render you immobile, and then he stripes the skin off of your entire body piece by piece... And he keeps you alive, and aware, and feasts on your organs one piece at a time._"

To think that Josh and Jess... Josh... Jess... Josh... and Jess... Josh... Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Oh God no, no, no, no.

They can't be... I can't think of... They shouldn't be... No, I can't think about it. I shouldn't think about it. I mustn't. I shouldn't, but fuck it all, the thought of their dead bodies being mangled by those fucking monsters won't stop rewinding in my head. FUCK.

"Chris," I hear my name in a muffled tone, as if I'm deep in a cave and the other person is just on the other side of it, calling for me but never coming in to get me.

I know what's happening. My logic knows what's happening. I'm having a panic attack, and someone's trying to calm me down.

"Chris," I hear again, a bit clearer this time. "Chris..."

I blink a couple of times to see green eyes staring right back at me—eyes filled with concern, fear, and a kind of worry I can't understand.

"Chris?" the soft voice of Ashley Brown asks.

I'm in the Blackwood Police Station. Of course.

"Y-Yeah?" I ask her, unsurprising at how shaky my voice had become. I _did _just have a panic attack.

I clear my throat, but I realize that my whole body is still shaking. I look at me tremendously shaking hands incredulously. I can't believe I just had a panic attack.

"You're not breathing right," Ash tells me, her own eyes showing as much panic as I had felt.

But she's right. I'm still not breathing right. I'm not breathing right because a huge part of me still doesn't believe in the supernatural, and yet how else can I explain what happened back there in the mountain? How else can I explain the fact that all six of us saw what happened at the same time? That those things were real? I _know _they were real.

And I don't want them to, but there's noting I can do to change the past. What did that graffiti up in the mountain say?

"_THE PAST IS BEYOND OUR CONTROL_."

Was the graffiti Josh's doing, too? It probably was. And even then, he's right. The past _is _beyond our control. I need to keep my cool. I need to be strong.

I need to be strong for Ashley.

"Sorry," I tell her.

Ash turns on her seat with her right leg folded under her, looking at me directly. She places her left hand on my chest and grips my shirt tight.

It feels as if she's gripping me by the heart, and I can't help but feel comforted by it.

"Don't you dare apologize," she whispers at me with an edge to her tone.

"Sor—Er, right, yeah," I say dumbly as her hand falls from my chest and grabs my right hand.

I look up at the others and they all turn away. They all saw what just happened. They all saw me hyperventilate. They all saw me panic.

"_Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked?_" Josh had asked. No, no one likes feeling those things.

"What were you thinking about?" Ashley suddenly asks me quietly, breaking me from my thoughts.

I sigh. "I... I don't want to talk about it, Ash."

"Besides asking me how I'm doing, you haven't talked since we swapped stories after Sam's interview with the police," she points out. "Eventually, you have to tell me what's wrong."

I crack a small smile. "What are you, a therapist?" I joke.

She gives me a small smile in return. "No, but we both know I'm right about needing to say what's wrong..." Her smile drops. "Maybe... Maybe after this, I might need one."

"Need what?"

"A therapist."

My smile drops.

The tension between us is thick and it suffocates me. I hold on to Ash as if she's my lifeline. Well, right now, she kind of is. She's the only one making me think straight at the moment.

She's my anchor in this sea of terror.

"You're right," I whisper, "about talking about it, I mean."

She looks back at me. "What were you thinking about?" she asks me again in a more somber tone, as if the question itself is the answer.

I bite my lower lip and let out a heavy breath before stilling myself. "I was thinking about Jess and... and..."

"...and Josh," Ashley finishes for me.

My throat dries up. "Yeah," I barely say since I can't even bear to hear the name of my best friend without...

"Chris, it's okay," Ashley tells me firmly, tightening her hold on my hand whilst her free hand rubs my arm. "Josh betrayed us all in the end."

"It doesn't mean he deserves to die, Ash," I scold her.

Sometimes, I forget how Ash can be a little flippant.

"I know. I know," she says. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," I sigh.

I don't blame her for being hostile with Josh as of now. She's still shaken up from everything that happened in the lodge... but she's right about one thing. I need to get things off my system as early as possible. _I _know that. Prolonging the agony will only cause more agony in the future.

I need to talk to those who would understand what I'd feel about losing Jess and... and Josh. I need those who aren't angry with him.

I look at the other side of the room to see Mike and Sam seated beside each other. Mike has his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped, and his head bowed down. Sam, on the other hand, has her arms straight with her hands holding on the seat, gripping it like a lifeline.

They were talking in whispers half an hour ago—and it might have even escalated to a little argument in the end. I didn't hear anything except Mike insisting about someone not being fine. They stopped talking a few minutes ago and now, both of them have their eyes locked on the ground. Both of them in worlds of their own. Like me.

These two... These two know how it truly hurts losing Josh and Jess... Mike, from what I've seen, actually loves Jess... and Sam... Well, she and Josh were pretty close, and Josh really liked her though he didn't know it himself. The idiot.

Is it a good idea to talk to them when they look like that? Maybe. I don't want them to spiral down a dark path either. Yes, I have to talk to them.

"Ash," I start, "do you mind if I talk to Mike and Sam for a moment?"

She blinks once, twice, thrice, then her eyes quickly glance at Matt and Emily's direction—her eyes filled with worry. She's probably afraid that she will go through another slap from Emily. I saved her from the brunt of Emily's wrath earlier, and Emily apologized for "being a bitch" as she said, but she never looked at Ashley once.

I can understand Ashley's anxiety.

"Why?" she asks me.

"Just... I want to... about Jess and..." Why is it so hard to talk about them all of a sudden?

"Oh, er, yeah, yeah, sure... Of course," she replies, slowly taking her hand from mine but I quickly snatch it back to kiss the back of it as well as her right cheek before slowly making my way towards Mike and Sam.

I wonder what kind of dark hole these two are falling in since neither of them are reacting to me walking up to them.

"Mike, Sam," I start, and as if I said a magic spell, they both look up at me at the same time in alarming speed, surprise etched on their features. I thought they'd have whiplash from the movement, and I'm just grateful that neither of them had the instinct to kill me... especially since these two are the ones who managed to kill wendigos.

"Chris," Mike whispers in a tone I can't decipher—as if my name physically hurts him to say somehow.

"Hey," Sam replies, "how're you doing?" she asks worriedly, moving a seat away from Mike and gently pulling me down to sit on the space between them.

"That's actually my line, and I can't believe you're stealing it, so screw you, Samantha," I joke to lessen the tension a bit.

Sam gives a small smile. "Well, you should pick better lines, Christopher, if they're so easy to steal." I smile at that but her face morphs back to being serious. "But seriously though, are you all right? You had us all worried for a bit there, you know."

I sigh. "I'm..." I shake my head. "It's just sinking in—what happened in and out of the lodge, I mean."

"Yeah, it was all so surreal," Sam agrees.

"No, I mean... I still don't _believe _it happened."

"Oh, right," she whispers, knowing that I am the most skeptic of the supernatural among our group.

Hell, I mocked the supernatural... and look where that got me.

"So, how are you two holding up?" I ask them just as I had asked Ashley, just wanting to know their mental state.

"I'm fine," Sam replies firmly. She's been saying that since we left the lodge.

Mike gives out a humorless snort, shaking his head. It's now obvious that this is the argument they were having earlier, and if I know Sam...

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine, too, then," I mock, rolling my eyes.

"I guess we're all fucking fine tonight," Mike says sharply.

Remembering his flinch earlier, I'm not surprised he's hating the word _fine_ right now. They've definitely had this conversation before, and I'm betting Mike was not _fine _with it. I decide not to say that out loud.

Mike sighs beside me. "Chris, man, look," he starts, " I'm—"

"He's going to apologize to you," Sam cuts in.

"...Why?" I ask Mike directly.

"It's about... It's about Josh," he whispers.

Once again, hearing my best friend's name makes me want to... I don't know really... "What about him?" I ask, my throat dry and my voice broken.

"Look, I'm sorry for leaving him in the—"

"Mike, you didn't know what would have happened," Sam intervenes beside me.

"Sam,. Chris and I tied him up like a little Christmas present for that motherfucking wendigo," he argues.

My hand shakes at that statement. Oh, holy shit, he's goddamn right about that, isn't he? Jo—He even complained about how tight the ropes were... and I even nearly hit him in the head with a plank of wood.

I knew I could do it. I was about to do it, but at the last second, I quickly changed my mind and disarmed Mike instead... but I knew I had it in me to hit him unconscious.

I was a part of the reason why he was taken to the mines.

"—found him in the mines. He was okay," I hear Sam beside me continue.

"Yeah, and I left him there to die, too," Mike replies with an edge to his tone.

"Mike," Sam whispers in shock.

I would have been shocked at his words, too, but I'm too busy trying to control my breathing. I look up to see that Mike has unshed tears in his eyes as he looks away. This is only getting worse for everyone.

We left my best friend to die. I let him down. We all let him down and now he's dead.

"Chris, you okay?" Sam asks beside me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I automatically reply because that's the standard reply to when you're not feeling fine.

"There's that fucking word again," Mike grumbles. "He's your goddamn best friend, Chris."

"Mike," Sam scolds.

"God, Jesus, Mike, you think I don't know that?" I reply hotly before letting out another heavy sigh to calm myself.

Strong. I need to be strong.

"...But you're right. It's why I came here in the first place anyway—to talk about... about them. I can't stop thinking about _them_."

"Yeah, neither can we," Mike replies, looking at Sam from the corner of his eyes.

I look at her to see her lips pursed, eyes downcast, and back to the position she was in before I intervened their silence.

"Josh," Mike mouths at me, and I nod in reply.

Shit. I never even knew Sam had feelings for him, too. All I know is about Josh's feelings for Sam (which, as I said, Josh himself didn't know). We never knew it was reciprocated. But there are no more chances for them to be together.

Because he's dead.

Dead like the Flamethrower Guy. Josh and Jess. All three of them torn apart. Skins ripped off while they scream. Organs taken apart and eaten. I think I'm gonna be sick.

"Christ Jesus, man, breathe!" I hear Mike yell beside me.

"Chris!" I see Ashley kneeling in front of me.

"God... when's this gonna stop?" I complain angrily when my breathing is nearing fine. "My lungs are fucking demanding," I joke without humor.

"Chris, it's okay—"

"No, it's not," I say calmly. "Why am I the only one hyperventilating around like a socially awkward little kid being forced to sing in front of a hundred people?" I ask no one, rubbing my face with my palms.

I am met with silence.

"Chris, what are you thinking about when you are panicking?" Ashley asks me again.

I shift uncomfortably at Mike's and Sam's stares. "I told you... I think about the three of them."

"Chris, besides Josh's faked death, you're the only one who actually saw someone die," Sam whispers in shock—as if she found the key to the whole puzzle.

In fact, she did. I am. I'm the only one who saw someone _actually _die.

And I'm the only one who knows how the wendigos eat their prey. How Beth, Jess, and Josh were handled upon their deaths. I'm the only one who knows about them.

And I can't let them know. It'll break them, too.

"Chris, what do you know about their deaths?" Mike asks.

"No, bro, I'm not gonna talk about that."

"Chris—" Mike starts again.

"No. Let's not... Let's not talk about this anymore. I'm done. I'm tired," I tell them honestly.

"I thought you came here to talk about—"

"Well, i can be an idiot sometimes, you know," I say sharply.

"Chris," Ashley scolds in a quiet tone.

"No, I'm serious. Talking about it is a mistake. I'm not. I don't want to deal with this shit right now..."

Sam nods. "Yeah, none of us are."

Then the doors open.

And Mr. and Mrs. Washington enter.


	5. The Comforter

Thank you for keeping up with this story, guys. I apologize for the long wait. I've been busy because of uni... and it seems that I might be busier this term as well due to my toxic schedule.

* * *

**JESSICA; MINES; 22:31  
FIFTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

It's weird how quickly your life can change forever, and it's even weirder how the little details can change over time, too. Obviously, I wouldn't have dreamt of this freaking situation I'm in—being in the cold mines on top of a scary-ass mountain.

But no, what I'm actually talking about is the fact that I am here with my head on Josh's shoulder, sniffing from both crying and being absolutely cold despite the overalls he gave me.

I don't know how Josh can manage with just his many shirts and jeans. At least, I now know why he's wearing five shirts on top of each other—to get himself looking like a bulgy man.

The pranks he set out for all of us still gives me the willies.

Still, I think the two of us are kinda good now since our arms are currently wrapped around each other. His hand is even absentmindedly rubbing my arm... Or maybe he just needs warmth and I'm the only best option.

Anyway, to add to that, some of the cold is numbing the pain I felt with my wounds. Of course, I can still feel my body weakening every second, but I don't feel anything anymore—other than the fucking cold and hunger.

"Why now?"

I flinch at the sudden whispered words as it echoes lightly around the mines, breaking the long-drawn silence between us (bar my and Josh's sniffing, of course). I wince at the thought of that monster coming back from the sound and taking the both of us again.

No. I'm being paranoid. Josh's screams earlier didn't seem to attract them, so I shouldn't be worried... but why am I worried all the time now?

"Jess."

I feel Josh move and so I remove my head from his shoulder to look at him in the eye. He opens his mouth again but closes it after. Again, knowing what that means, it's obvious he's backing out even though he wants to continue on.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"Never mind," he tells me, confirming what I just thought.

"No, no, what do you mean? I wanna know," I tell him genuinely. "What do you mean 'Why now'?" I ask again.

Josh closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he looks away to look at... something at the corner of the mines. He shakes his head... as if responding to something... or someone.

Is he... Is he seeing things he shouldn't be seeing when he's not being all... manic? Is this normal for him? Can't he have a break?

Josh sighs, bringing me back to reality. "I was going to ask why you're just... why you... I—I mean... I mean, don't get me wrong, we're kinda okay now but... I want to know why... why now, you know? Why are you just apologizing now? About... about what happened to... t—to them."

Before I reply, he quickly continues.

"I know you apologized before. I mean, you said that you're sorry last year, the morning after it happened. But it wasn't as genuine as it did tonight. And I know you didn't mean for it to happen—the disappearance—but you weren't complete with your apology... Not like earlier... So... Why?... Why now?"

I blink once. Twice. Thrice.

"It's a stupid question, I know," Josh backtracks immediately after my fourth blink. "I don't need to talk about the elephant in the room. We both know what changed in the last twenty-four hours. I don't even know why I'm asking you this." He laughs nervously. "It's just fucking stupid. Don't answer it."

"Josh—" I start but he cuts me off.

"I know. I know, I know, I know. You don't have to tell me. You don't even have to explain anything anymore. I understand. Life changes us. I know," he says, shaking his head to emphasize his meaning. "I'm serious. I mean, I already know the answer. It's in my head. You don't have to explain yourself."

"Josh, come on—"

"Seriously, it's okay," he insists.

"Josh, listen to me!" I shout, wincing as my voice bounces off the rocky walls. I even feel Josh stiffen in surprise from the shout.

Oh God, I did it. The monster is gonna come back. I know it. It heard me. It's gonna come back. It's gonna come back and kill me! Kill both of us!

No. No. Josh was way worse earlier—louder, I mean, I'm just being over-dramatic. We can't have two crazy people down here in the mines. I need to keep my cool. I just have to pretend that I'm not scared out of my pants here.

What did Mike tell me?

"_You know how to handle yourself. You might call it a front but... it's real,_" he said.

He _said _that. I can do it. Mike's right. I can keep my cool.

"Josh, look at me. I mean, really look," I tell him, waving my shaking hand all over my face when he looks at me. "You probably don't remember what happened when I first saw you down here, but you screamed like bloody murder when you saw me. It's why I didn't come any closer to your anymore after that. I know I look like hell bent over. Fuck, I even felt it happen. I know I probably look like a monster—" I blurt out.

"Don't think like that, Jess," he cuts me off firmly. "You're not a monster. You're not like that thing that dragged us here. I was just being stupid that time. You can't trust me when I'm going through an episode—"

At that, Josh closes his mouth quickly and looks away, shaking his head.

Well, he _did _scare the crap out of me with those episodes of his, but I'm not gonna tell him that. Besides, he's right. I can't trust him when he's going through it. I can't trust him with himself.

He's scared that he might hurt me when all he's been doing is hurting himself. I can't stop thinking of Josh clawing his own face.

I mean, we kinda look the same now except the scars on my face are deeper and larger—made by a supernatural monster. His is just smaller—made by a human—by himself.

Hmm, maybe you _could _say his scars were made by monsters, too. Monsters inside him. I wouldn't know what to do if he goes through that again.

"Josh, I've seen you in two episodes in one day. You don't have to be embarrassed about it with me anymore," I reassure him because that's what good people do, right? Not that I know how to be one.

"Yeah, well," he laughs humorlessly, "I am. Do you think I like having this around me?!" he asks me, gesturing at the space in front of us.

So, I was right. Even if he's not going through some sort of fit, he's seeing things. Fuck. How did none of us see this? How did his family not see this? I thought the Washingtons were a tight family?

"No," I whisper sadly, "I don't think you do."

Josh stares at me for a few moments and bites his lips before letting out a heavy sigh. I decide to continue on with the topic that made me ramble in the first place.

"Well, we went off-topic there, but all I'm saying, Josh, is that this—" I gesture at my face—"is a representation of how our lives are changed forever... and it will haunt me forever. And that night—the night we pranked your sisters—" He sucks in a breath—"is my fault."

"Jess—"

"Let me finish," I insist. When he doesn't speak, I continue, "It just... It never really sunk in until now how terrible it was—how terrible _I _was. I mean, if I'm being totally honest, I came here for the party. Not for you. Still think I'm a good friend to you? I don't think so."

"I was planning on taping you having sex with Mike," he points out.

"Because I had your sisters killed," I blurt out.

He looks away.

Fuck, what is wrong with me? Why am I saying all of this to him? He's not even mentally stable right now. And looking away from me? He still blames me. No matter how many times he tells himself that he forgives me, he doesn't. I can tell.

"I had to grow up eventually," I whisper. "And I'm sorry it came late... but Josh, I'm... I'm really sorry," my voice cracks.

Silence.

"Jess," he whispers, "I... I..."

"You don't have to say anything," I tell him, knowing he's having a hard time coming up with something to say.

"Okay," he simply replies with his eyes softening a bit.

He moves once more to sit back, settling down beside me. I tentatively wrap my arms around him and he wraps his arms around mine, my head resting on his chest, and his hand rubbing my back.

He's too good for anyone. If I was him, I wouldn't be this close to someone like me. I wouldn't be sitting beside the murderer of their siblings. But then again, it's too cold for such things such as pettiness.

No. I don't think he thinks of me as a friend. I think he just needs me for the warmth. I don't blame him.

"Thank you," he whispers beside me.

"No need to thank me, Josh. I'm being sincere," I tell him.

"Thank you for being sincere, then," he continues.

"Sure," I simply reply.

Poor Josh. The world is so against him and no one knows why. Speaking of...

"How long has this been going on?" I ask, gesturing stupidly at the space in front of us. "The... The hallucinations," I say the word hesitantly.

At the word, he looks at me sharply before looking away.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he says.

"It'll help. It can be our little secret. I mean, no one's here to hear it other than me, and when we get out of the mines, I won't tell anyone. I promise," I reassure him gently. "If we don't get out of the mines, at least... At least, someone knew of what's happening around you."

Josh sighs. "Why do you want to know?"

Fuck, what do I say to that? Because I'm curious? Because I'm scared?

"Because I'm worried."

"Of me," he sighs in a defeated tone.

"For you," I clarify. "I just... I want to know how long it's been going on."

"You won't like the answer to that," he tells me.

I move away from him a bit to look at him in the eye. He doesn't look at me. Instead, he keeps staring at his hand which is picking at a thread on his jeans.

Something drops at the pit of my stomach.

"It started since Hannah and Beth's disappearance, didn't it? Oh God, Josh," I exclaim.

"Now, you're putting more guilt on your shoulders," he says in a scolding manner, which surprises me. Shouldn't I be the one to blame for this?

"H—How did it start?" I slowly ask.

"Do you really wanna know? It'll only upset you. It does to me," Josh says worriedly.

Is he for real? Why is he so... nice to me? It makes me feel even worse. God, is this how killing with kindness really feels?

"Yes," I whisper in answer.

He shrugs, taking a deep breath before his hand starts tapping on top of his knee—clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"It—God, I never told anyone about this before—but it started about a month after they disappeared... That's when people stopped waiting for any news about... about... But I... I just saw them... everywhere."

"Hannah and Beth?"

"Yeah," he says with a cracked voice.

"How?" I ask curiously.

"I dunno. Sometimes I just see Hannah crying in her room, and then Beth would come console her or something like that. Sometimes I'd see them laughing in the movie room in our house like they always did when they were watching some of dad's movies. I'd see them outside when I look through the window. They'd tell me to join them. I'd see them in every place they usually would be... and it sucks because sometimes I get fooled into thinking that they came back. That it was all a dream."

I keep silent because I don't know what to say.

"They're just so real... and... and beautiful but..." he stops and lets out a small sob before sniffing, quickly wiping the tear on his face.

"...But?" I ask hesitantly.

"They'd demand why I never saved them."

Fuck. I guess I'm not the only one placing guilt on one's own shoulders.

"You wouldn't believe what they are telling me right this second."

A shiver runs through my spine at the idea that Josh is going through with this thing right now. I keep forgetting that Josh can still see them even when he isn't going through an episode. He just looks so... normal right now. A year of practice with ignoring them, perhaps? God, to think that he still sees his sisters, and those apparitions killing him like that...

"What are they saying?"

He pauses before saying, "That I'm just making myself look even more pathetic to you."

"Josh, that's not true. You're not pathetic."

He laughs humorlessly. "The voices in my head say otherwise."

How many times did we joke about this before? Now, it scares me that he actually has voices in his head.

"Did you ever consider getting a... a psychiatrist or something?" I ask cautiously. "Isn't that what... what you can do for things like... like this?"

Great. I'm just ostracizing him for his mental problems. What the fuck is wrong with me? He'll probably think I want him thrown into a mental facility and locked away. He'll close himself up more. I'm really not good enough for this kind of talk. Sam should be the one talking to Josh right now. Not me.

"I already have a psychiatrist."

Oh. "What?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"That's confidential," he says before smiling. "Nah, I guess from everything we've been through, I think I can trust you with some of my secrets."

"You can. I won't tell anyone, I swear," I genuinely promise.

"All right. Well, let's see... I've been through five psychiatrists since I was eleven."

"Oh my God, Josh."

"Yeah... Been through a bunch of medications, too, but nothing really worked well for me."

Fuck. What do I say? "Well, after we get out of the mines, I can be someone you can talk to, if you want. I mean, we are going through hell right now, after all."

Josh actually laughs at that. "You're always so optimistic."

He's wrong about that.

"That's one of the reasons why I had a crush on you," he continues.

I look up at him in surprise. "What—Why are you—What the f—Josh?"

He laughs once more. "Are you honestly so surprised?"

"But... I mean... Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

"Nothing... It just came into my mind," he replies.

Oh, he wants to change the subject.

Josh continues on, "Still, you shouldn't be surprised. Everyone had a crush on you at some point or another."

I decide to go along with him right now. I'm guessing he's exhausted from all the emotional talks. I know I am.

"Yeah, sure, but it's different when you admit it," I say.

"Why is it different when I say it?"

"Not you, in particular... Just... It's different when a friend confesses a crush, you know? I was so shocked when Mike asked me out, to be honest. And come on, imagine Chris or Matt telling me they had a crush on me."

Josh hums. "Wait, no, on second thoughts, I take it back. Not everyone had a crush on you. Chris has had a crush on Ashley before he even saw you."

I laugh at that. "God, he's such a loyal puppy to her. That's some dedication right there. I'm sure they're together now, and I'm glad for that."

"Even with my methods?" he asks rather darkly.

"You... You could've done better, I guess," I admit.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Yeah."

I need to cheer him up or distract him, at least.

"So, what did you like about me?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Well, you said you had a crush on me, right? So, spill it. Besides my optimism, what did you like about me?"

"Rather narcissistic of you to ask me that, Jess."

"It's good to know what makes me look good in the eyes of another and not just my own, Josh," I reply back.

"All right, all right, you win. Let's see... Look, honestly, all four of you are total bombs and all... and Em and Ash are great, sure. It's just... I really have a thing for blondes."

"Blondes..." Something clicks in my head. This will confirm what the others and I have been betting on for a long time. "So you mean, me... and Sam?"

"...Yeah."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, you and... and Sam."

"You like her?"

"What? No!"

"Of course, you do."

"Wha—Where the hell did that idea even come from?" he defends himself rather poorly.

"Well, you kept saying that you had a crush on me—past tense. Plus, you're into blondes. You even said so yourself that you, at least, liked her at some point. I may not be a 4.0 grade student like Em, but I can do the math. It's not that hard," I tell him. Gossips and body-language observations? I'm the gal for that.

"Give yourself some more credit, Jess. You're pretty and smart, too, you know," Josh reassures.

"Yeah, I'm smart," I say, "smart enough to know that you're totally changing the subject." He huffs at that. "So, you and Sam, huh?"

"Fine. You win. I... like her," Josh says. "But it's not like she'll even look at me in the eye after... after..."

"Oh please, give Sam some more credit. If she can forgive me and Mike for what we did to Hannah and Beth—her best friends..."

I can already feel the heavy tension coming back.

"I made her watch it, you know."

"Watch what?"

"My fake death."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Josh."

"I know."

"What's that supposed to prove, anyway?"

"I—I don't know... If she cared enough, I guess? I wanted to see her reaction. To see how much she'll grieve for me. I haven't heard that much anguish in her voice in my life. But I didn't even give her the chance to grieve before I ran after her. I'm an idiot."

I don't answer. What do you say after that anyways?

Josh laughs. "She even threw a vase at me."

"What? Sam?"

He nods. "Pacifist, my ass. God, I screwed it up big time with her... With everyone, really."

"After this night? We both screwed up big time."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't think any of the teenagers killed Hannah and Beth. The Makkapitew killed Hannah and Beth.**


	6. The Victor

**EMILY; BLACKWOOD STATION; 22:35  
****FIFTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

I've never really met or seen Josh's parents before so seeing them now is a big surprise though in these circumstances, it shouldn't be. Of course, I've heard all about them from the others, but they were either praises from Chris and Sam, or awed annoyance from Josh, Beth, and Hannah—you know, whatever the hell a kid says about their parents.

Not to mention, magazines and online articles about Mr. Washington and his success as a film director.

But seeing them now, running in the police station looking like someone is about to die... Well, it's a bit disconcerting... and oddly underwhelming. They look like any other concerned parents. Obviously, I understand what's wrong: their son is missing... but still, I expected something else entirely. I don't know what, but something _else_, you know?

"Where is he?" Mrs. Washington yells. "Where's my son?"

Something squeezes inside of me at the fact that Josh isn't with us right now. I may be known for being a cold-hearted bitch but even I know Josh doesn't deserve dying or whatever-it-is that happened to him... and... neither does Jess. No matter how I feel about her. It's not like the two left me to rot, you know?

"Please calm down," the policeman tells Mrs. Washington.

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! MY SON IS MISSING!" she replies.

A knot pulls in my stomach. She sounded exactly like Beth. I miss her as well as Hannah. I can't believe everything that happened today happened because of one prank. What a simple cause to a great tragedy.

"Mrs. Washington, please, let's not raise our voices around the teenagers," the policeman says.

Mrs. Washington takes a brief look at all of us and I find myself squirming at her look. She isn't looking at us any differently than any adult looks at a group of teenagers... which only makes me realize that she probably doesn't even know the full story of what happened to Hannah and Beth. That it was our fault they left that night. She should be looking at us like we're the devil. Which we are.

"Fine. Just tell me where he is," Mrs. Washington replies, calmer.

"We don't know where he is at the moment and—"

"What?!" Mr. Washington exclaims. "What do you mean you don't know where he is? We were told the teenagers were rescued!"

"Yes, six teenagers were rescued. We were told of two more missing. We haven't found a body yet, Mr. Washington. We have no indication whether he is alive or not."

"Then go and find him! He's out there. He's alive, and I know it!" MR. Washington shouts.

"We have our rescuers roaming around the mountain," the policeman reasons.

"Speed it up!" Mrs. Washington demands.

"I'll give my whole damn business if I have to. Just get him back!" Mr. Washington exclaims.

A shiver runs through my spine at the intensity that is Mr. Robert Washington. He sounded exactly like Josh when he found out that the twins were gone. It brings me back to that moment. His anger and anguish in two words. "_Find them_," he said.

I remember that morning.

The other girls and I entered the kitchen of the lodge to find Sam sitting beside a still-unconscious Josh.

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"What do you think?" I retorted sharply.

"Jesus," Sam whispered, glancing at Josh.

"What are we gonna do?" Ashley asked.

Chris, who was sitting in front of Sam and Josh and was unconscious, groaned. "Oh sh't, wh't h'ppened?" he slurred.

"Good question," Jess said.

"Wh't? Okay, what's going on? Seriously? What the hell happened?" he asked after Ashley poured him a glass of water. None of us answered. "I'd appreciate a word or two, y'know?"

"Hannah and Beth..." Jess started. "They... We..."

"What?"

"We can't find them," Ashley finished.

"W—wait, wait, _what_?" Chris exclaimed.

"They've been missing since last night, or morning, or whatever you call two a.m.," Jess exclaimed.

"You're serious?"

I rubbed my arms. "Yeah, they've been gone for hours. We can't find them. Not a clue."

"Wait. So, hang on, what time is it?" Chris asked.

"About eleven," answered Sam. "We've been looking for them since dawn. At least, the four of us are. I think Matt and Mike stayed up all night but I'm not sure." She turned to look at us. "You really didn't find anything?"

"What part of 'not a clue' do you not understand, Sam?" I retorted. "Do you _see _us partying for a reunion with the twins?"

"You're not the only one stressed out, Em," she scolded.

I sighed apologetically. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, Sam."

That's when Mike and Matt entered the kitchen. Both of them tired and defeated.

Sam sighed. "Let me guess: nothing?"

Matt shook his head. "Nothing."

"Shit," Sam whispered.

"Fuck," Jess exclaimed.

"That about covers it, yeah," Matt commented.

Mike started, "We should call the police if they're still not here by two."

"Why can't we just call them now?" asked Ashley.

"Maybe they'll come back? I don't know. We'd have called the police for nothing."

I saw red, and so I replied, "What the hell are you talking about? They've been gone for _nine _hours. Three more will just decrease their chances of survival. Maybe wandering around loosened some screw up your head, sweetie. I can't _believe _we chose _you _as Class Prez. No. We need to find Beth and Hannah. We should call the police _right now_."

A grown startled us all and we all turned to see Josh raising his head beside Sam.

"W-wait, wait, wait, wait. H'ld 'n." He turned to Sam. "W-who's missing 'gain?"

No one answered.

"_Who_?!" Josh asked, breathing heavily.

Sam replied gently, "Josh, Hannah and Beth, they—"

Josh panicked. "W-what? _Both _of them?!"

Mike quickly replied, "Yeah, they ran off to the woods last night and... we haven't found them since."

Josh looked at us. "Last night? When?"

"Josh—" Sam started.

"_When_?!"

"About two? Last night?" answered Ashley.

"No, no, no, no, no. No, that's _bullshit_. They can't have—They wouldn't have—No, they're probably hiding somewhere in the lodge or something. Wouldn't be the first time."

"For nine hours?" Matt asked.

"They're _patient_," Josh insisted.

"Josh, we're serious," Sam said.

"So am I!" exclaimed Josh. "If this is some elaborate prank, I swear to God—"

"It's not a prank, Josh!" Sam replied heatedly. "_I _wouldn't prank anyone like this."

A knot pulled in my stomach, and I saw the others' guilty faces as well.

"S-so, so, what are you saying? My sisters are _missing_?! _Both _of them?!"

"Maybe they'll come back or something," Jess suggested softly.

"S-so you're all serious? Mike? Matt? Cochise, tell me you cooked this bullshit up."

Chris raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. I literally just woke up."

"So they're really out there? Right now? Shit, we—we gotta go! _Find them_!"

The bar stool he was sitting on crashed to the ground as he stood up. Sam stood up and managed to catch Josh before he also crashes to the ground. Chris stood up just behind Josh but didn't touch him after Sam gestured at him not to come closer.

Josh started rambling. "It's dangerous out there at night... and, and it's cold. They'll... Oh God, they'll freeze to death. No. No, they can't. They can't do that to me. We gotta go, guys. Seriously, we gotta go find them. They can't leave me. Not now."

He ran past Sam who tried to stop him but failed. Mike and Matt managed to block him from the door.

"We looked everywhere, man," Matt started.

"No," Josh insisted, "you just didn't look _enough_. Let me go find them."

"Come on, man. We'll call the police," Mike reasoned.

"Y-you think I'll just take your word for it? I mean, no offence but they're _my _sisters. _I _have to find them. I'm sorry but I _have _to. You wouldn't understand."

With that, Josh managed to squeeze through Matt and Mike, before slamming the door open and running away.

"We have to run after him," Matt yelled, already running towards the door.

"Oh, like _hell_ we're losing him, too!" Mike added.

The two ran like hell after Josh, with all of us following close behind.

"Damn," Matt whispers beside me, bringing me back to the present, with Mr. and Mrs. Washington still talking to the policeman.

"I know right," I whisper back, taking a deep breath after the heavy tension that fell upon the room.

I wish I was like the others sometimes—optimistic enough to hop on Josh's and Jess' survival. But I'm not. Statistically speaking, it's nearly impossible for them to come out of the mines alive, especially with those monsters roaming around.

Ahhh, there's the softy in me—the word 'nearly'. Maybe a part of me is still hoping, too. In some way or another.

Why? I don't know. To slap Josh for his probable prank on me? To yell at Jess more for being carefree and slutty? I mean, it would be boring without fighting someone, right? Where would all my sass go?

Oh, who am I kidding? After the past two days, I don't feel like fighting anyone. Not even Mike or Ashley. No matter how much I hate the two of them.

"We will, Mr. and Mrs. Washington. You can count on us," the policeman replies, bringing me back to reality. "Please, let's discuss this further in Room 1. We can tell you the full details of what apparently happened to the six teenagers here."

"All right," Mr. Washington replies, placing a hand around Mrs. Washington's waist to steer her along with him as the policeman leads them to Room 1.

And with that, they leave us alone.

"Well, that was something," Ashley says, always breaking the damn silence.

"I feel bad for them," Matt continues. "First Hannah and Beth... Now Josh. Who are they left with?"

Another stab of guilt hits me on the stomach. The last Washington child is gone. Matt is right. Who _are _they left with if Josh is dead?

"Fuck, Matt," Mike whispers, "you didn't have to say that."

"It's true, though," Matt badgers on.

"Still, it would have been better if I wasn't thinking about that right now. I've got a lot going on in my plate," he says.

Something triggers inside of me.

"And you think we don't?" I argue,

"Em, not now," Mike says, having the balls to shut me up.

I was wrong. I need a fight. I want to fight. If only to take away this shaking feeling deep inside of me, this... this _feeling _ I can't explain.

"Don't 'not now' me, Michael. You're not the only one who went through hell."

"I know that!"

That nearly shut me up. What do you say if the person you are arguing with agrees with you all of a sudden? Continue to fight?

"No! You know nothing!"

"I was there too, you know. I was in the Sanatorium twice. I've seen what's out there," he argues. "I fucking shot a gun at those... those creatures," Mike continues.

"Oh, this is just rich. Do you think you're a fucking hero all of a sudden?" I exclaim.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" he asks with a _look _on his face which I just want to punch.

"You have no idea where to point a gun! You point it at murderous carnivores, not at human beings. This is so damn rich, coming from you, you murderer. I'm glad you were weak enough to not do it!" I argue.

"So, you're saying I should've shot you?" he counters.

"You... You're such a fucking idiot!" I shout. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Guys, come on, let's not—" Sam, such the pacifist, starts but Michael cuts her off.

"You said it yourself. I was weak when I didn't shoot you. What do you want me to do? What would you have wanted me to do? Shoot you? To prove that I'm strong? Is that it? Is that fucking it, Em?"

"That's not the fucking point here!"

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry?"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Michael!"

"I know! Jesus fuck, Em, I'm not an idiot!"

"Could've fooled me."

"GUYS!" Chris shouts.

The room quietens as we all turn to the guy who is usually quiet except when it comes to joking around with Josh.

"Fighting won't get us anywhere. Yes, Mike was stupid to try and point a gun at you, and yes, he's guilty about it but he doesn't know how to show it. Yes, Em, we all went through different kinds of hell and we all could've died. So, can we please just focus on the real problem here? We're not fucking complete. That's the elephant in the room. First Hannah, then Beth, now Josh and Jess. If you keep on fighting and—I don't know—attempt murder on each other, who are we left with? Huh? So, would you all just shut up!"

The room quietens. I don't even dare reply back. Chris was the one who hyperventilated earlier, and I heard what the others asked. How did the others die? Only Chris knows. Only Chris _saw_. I may have played hide and seek with the fucking wendigos but it's nothing compared to seeing someone's murder.

"This is ridiculous!" we hear Mr. Washington's voice from inside. "You're speaking nonsense!"

A murmur from the policeman.

"I don't care what you're talking about! I want the truth! Don't talk to me about wendigos or some other bullshit!" he exclaims from inside Room 1.

"I don't blame him," Matt says.

"Neither do I. I still can't believe what happened, and I got bitten on the shoulder," I tell him.

"Did they take care of it?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, it's fine, thanks," I tell her genuinely since that's the first kind thing I've heard all day.

"You sure it doesn't hurt anymore?" Matt asks.

"I'm fine, sweetie," I reassure him.

"After today, I don't want to believe in the word, 'fine', so I'm sorry if I don't want to take your word for it this time," he says.

He's being all Alpha. I love it. I do want a man who knows how to take his place.

"I'm fine. I swear," I tell him. "I don't even feel it anymore. They patched it up real good."

The door to Room 1 opens and I finally see some new light in Mr. and Mrs. Washington's eyes.

They don't talk but they're looking at us like we're crazy. Like we belong in the Sanatorium. Even I wouldn't believe what happened here tonight if it wasn't because I experienced it firsthand.

"We're going to call your parents," Mrs. Washington starts. "We're going to fly you all back to California in our plane first thing tomorrow morning. You'll all be... You'll all be fine."

"Thank you, Mrs. Washington," Chris starts quickly before being followed by our murmurs of gratitude.

"But what about Josh and Jess?" Ashley starts, ever the straightforward bitch she is. God, what a bitch.

"We got some rescuers on the case," Mr. Washingtons says. "We'll find them," he says firmly before turning to Mrs. Washington who seems to be trembling. "We will," he tells her. "As we said, the plane isn't leaving until tomorrow morning so you'll all be staying at the Blackwood Bed and Breakfast. It's just near this place so you don't have to worry about... whatever-it-is that attacked all of you."

"We're telling the truth, Mr. Washington," Ashley starts.

"We're not saying you're lying. It's just... It's hard to believe that a... a... a wendigo would be around the mountain... especially since Josh and this Jess girl is still up there," he says and I hear Mrs. Washington whimper. "They'll be found. I'm sure of it."

"D-don't worry about the lodging at the Bed and Breakfast either," Mrs. Washington starts. "That's on us—even your breakfast."

"Thank you, Mrs. Washington," Sam says.

"It's the least we could do. If you're right about the wendigo, it's our son who brought you all here to this horror," Mr. Washington says. "He'll be found," he reassures Mrs. Washington once more who seems about to protest to Mr. Washington.

"Come on, let's go," Mrs. Washington says, going to the doors.

Matt helps me up because I didn't know I was shaking the entire time.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he asks me.

"This is all just so wrong," I tell him. "Josh and Jess are missing."

"I thought you hate Jess."

"Doesn't mean she deserves to die. She didn't try to kill me or anything. if it was Michael or Ashley out there, I wouldn't care a goddamn bit if they get lost. But Josh and Jess? They didn't do anything to me to deserve this."

"Babe, come on, Mike and Ashley didn't mean anything they did."

"You weren't there, sweetie. Michael pointed a gun at me and Ashley egged him on. He was about to do it, too. I didn't know what stopped him but the look on his face was something I never want to see again."

"Fuck. God, I'll talk to him."

"No, don't. Not yet, at least. Chris is right. We can't afford to fight right now. We have to focus on finding Jess and Josh. We have to do better than last time."

"Fuck, you're right."

"Of course, I am. I'm always right."

"Of course, you are."

He kisses me on the forehead and I'm reminded why I said yes to this meathead in the first place—because he cares about me in a way no one does. I don't know how he keeps up with me but he tries. He's my boyfriend and I love him.

I hope he knows that.


	7. The Negotiator

**JOSH; MINES; 22:41  
****FIFTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

Hey, it's me again. Thought I neglected you, huh? Sorry about blaming you earlier; that wasn't nice of me. I just freaked out. You should expect a lot of that from me, to be honest. I don't really know what else to warn you. So many things had been happening around me that I lost track of my self-awareness. Isn't that what we're supposed to be taking real care of? Well, I'm fucked.

"_Josh..._"

At least, I have someone with me right now who isn't a rotting corpse keen on making me feel like shit. If I was alone, I'd already be—Well, I don't want my thoughts to travel down that path again. Or you could say, I don't want _them _getting any more ideas.

"_So useless..._"

"I'm hungry," Jess whispers, breaking my thoughts as well as the voices of my imagination.

"Guess we have to eat each other," I automatically blurt out in my deadpan voice.

"Disgusting, Josh," she replies, pushing my shoulder harshly with a hand. She isn't fooling me. I can see a small smile.

"I'm not talking about _that _kind of eating," I reply suggestively, making sure to wiggle my eyebrows at her.

"Are you _flirting _with me, Joshua Washington?" she replies bemusedly.

"So, what if I am?"

"Should I tell Sam?"

My smile drops immediately. I see hers drop, too, so I immediately slap a smile on my face and I chuckle, "Hey, I'm just trying to lighten up the mood here. This place isn't exactly a good venue for a stand-up comedian."

"Right... but seriously, Josh. I haven't eaten in twenty-four hours already. You?"

"Same thing. I'm trying not to think about it," I lie.

Because food isn't exactly on my mind right now. I'm too busy trying to act normal when fucked-up crap is happening all around me. You know what? My dad should be rewarding me with the best actor award. I've been acting my whole life as if I'm normal when really, everything about my life is everything _but _normal.

"I wish I could do the same," she whispers.

"Do what the same?" I ask because my stupid brain got me off track from the conversation.

"Not think about it... Food,I mean. I want to just _do _something, you know? Something to take my mind off of things—particularly food."

"Why don't you try exercising? There's plenty of space around here," I joke.

"My body isn't exactly fit for exercising right now, Josh. Don't be ridiculous," she replies, rolling her eyes with a smile.

"Hey, you asked for my opinion."

"Technically, I didn't."

We laugh. As mine dies down, hers finished off with a heavy cough that even I, a student who lacks medical education, know that _that _is not exactly good for her right now.

I can feel her shiver—not just from the cold, but from how weak and fragile her body is.

I'm glad I'm not the one who did this to her, but at the same time, I cannot believe Jess went through something as horrible as whatever-it-is that happened to her. I don't care that she was the mastermind of the prank on my sisters. No one deserves this kind of shit.

"_Liar. You seriously think she deserves this._"

"No, I don't!" I defend myself from Fake-Beth.

"Josh?"

I turn to look at Jess who is still clinging on to my arm and shoulders to warm herself from the cold. She gives me a concerned look in return—something I've been seeing her give me since we've been reacquainted.

"Huh?" I ask as my ever eloquent self.

"Are you talking to... them again?"

Fuck.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" She nods. "Fuck, I've been trying hard not to do that for the past hour."

"It's—It's okay. I mean, I'm not gonna lie. It scares the shit out of me. Not of you. For you. But it's okay; you don't have to fake it or pretend that everything's normal around here. After the night we went through, I think this is by far the most normal thing I've ever witnessed," she assures me.

I shake my head. "I grew up learning to hide what I know. I'm not gonna stop now."

"It'll save you from further torment, though."

"Being open about it is enough torment for me."

"Okay."

She sighs sadly—something she's been doing the past hour as well—curling up beside me before her body shivers once more.

I've done research for my father when he's doing some of his movies. Yes, my father is a Hollywood mogul and he's done a lot of horror movies but he's done some thrillers and dramas here and there, too. Seeing Jess's shallow breaths, slow movements, mumbled speech, and shivering—I know enough that this is the early signs of hypothermia.

Jess is dying.

"_And it's all your fault..._"

No, this is not my fault.

"_You brought them here, remember? You're the reason everyone is suffering this way._"

Fuck. Hannah's right. I mean, _Fake_-Hannah is right. I brought them up the mountain. This is all my fault.

So now, I have to undo it. I have to save Jess. And there's only one way I can do it.

"Jess, I think it's better if we leave the mines."

"What?! Are you serious?!"

"You were right before... Your body... It isn't fit for our current situation. Didn't you say you wanted to do something? This is it. This could be your good opportunity."

"I know I said what I said, but that doesn't mean I want to move around with those—those _things _around."

"Things?"

"The _monsters_, Josh! I don't want to walk around looking like a tasty treat for them to feast on."

"Come on. I haven't heard a single shriek coming from outside the mines."

Because the shrieks I've been hearing are different. They're like telepathic, in a sense. I don't hear them outside my ears but I could hear them in my head. Like someone is broadcasting a shrieking radio channel inside my head. And I wasn't lying. I haven't heard a single external shriek for hours.

"They could still be out there," Jess says, hooking me back to reality.

"I can't just let you freeze to death here, Jess!"

"I won't. I'm not freezing to death. It's just... It's just a little cold."

"Oh yeah? Well, your body says otherwise, Jess. That's some bullshit coming from you."

"Urgh! Fine! Fine! Fine! You're right, okay? I hate this. I hate it here. My body is burning from the cold if that makes any sense. I'm losing my mind here, Josh. If I stay here for another hour, I'll end up like..." she stops.

I give her a knowing look. "...Like me?" I ask, already knowing that's what she was aiming for.

"I didn't say that," she replies apologetically.

"But you meant to," I point out.

"Josh..."

I shake my head. "No, no, no, no, no, I get it. I wouldn't want anyone to end up like me either, but that's beside the point. We are leaving the mines, and that's final."

"You can't just tell me what to do. Do you even _know _who you're talking to?"

"Yes, I'm talking to you. You—the freezing ice queen who is bent on staying in a place that could be her earliest grave."

"If you go, I'll stay here. I don't want to die."

"You'll die either way," I point out. "Wouldn't you rather want to fight for your life? Where's the Jessica Riley that I know and love?"

"She died when those monsters tortured her."

"Jess..."

"I mean it, Josh. I don't want to leave. You'll have to go out on your own."

"I don't want to go alone. I don't want to be stuck alone with them," I blurt out.

"Them?" she asks confusedly.

I close my eyes in defeat, touching my forehead with my forefinger. "Them."

"_Pathetic_."

"_You know we're the only ones who has always had your back, Josh... We are always here for you, always._"

"_Not like how you were with us. Where were you when we needed you the most?_"

"Argh! Stop it!" I bellow because they started chanting about just how useless and pathetic I am to bring them to their deaths. I mean, how I brought my sisters to death.

The ones with me aren't real. They're not real. They're not real. They're not real. They are ill. Close the deal. Subway seal. FUCK. It's happening again. My brain is fucking messed up, man. I'm sorry.

"Josh?"

"What do you want from me?" I yell at the standing corpses.

"No, Josh. That was me," I hear to my left. It's Jess. Jessica. Jess Riley. Miley. Isn't she a singer? Miley Cyrus?

"Oh, I'm sorry," I whisper.

"N-no, it's—it's okay."

"You're stuttering. That means it's not okay."

"It's okay."

"Now, you're just repeating yourself." I smile. Jess laughs. Good.

"_We know you hate it._"

God, when will I ever be free from them?

"Josh, what are they telling you? Your... your sisters. What are they telling you right now?" Jess asks me tentatively.

I sigh. "You don't wanna know."

"No, I do. I do want to know. Get my mind off things, remember? This is for my benefit. Not yours."

I can see right through her. She's trying to act arrogant and care-free when really, she's concerned about me. I can see it in those big grey eyes of hers.

I let out a chuckle because of her antics but I give in.

"_Pathetic._"

"Well, they just said the word 'pathetic' to me."

"You're not pathetic, Josh."

"Once again, I tell you: the voices in my head say otherwise."

"_You're crazy. You're out of my mind. Bat shit crazy._"

Sometimes I get caught off-guard when Fake-Beth swears at me. It reminds me of the real Beth, the one unafraid to tell me to fuck off when I'm annoying her. God, I miss my sister.

"What else are they saying?"

"Why do you assume that they're saying something?" I ask her.

"I don't know—there's something in your eyes. It glazes over or something. Like you're staring at someone here even though there's no one right in front of us."

"Why do you think there's no one right in front of us?" I accidentally blurt out. "Fuck, ignore that."

"Josh..."

"I'm delusional. Just forget it."

"_Pathetic._"

"Stop telling me I'm pathetic!" I yell at Fake-Hannah.

"Josh?" Jess asks me. I look at her in question. "After the night we went through, at first, I actually thought you were seeing the ghosts of Hannah and Beth... Like, if there are those monsters roaming around... Then what if there are other spirits roaming around, too? Maybe this mountain is special—magical—haunted. I don't know."

"No, I know these—" I gesture at Fake-Hannah and Fake-Beth who are glaring at me from the corners of the Monster's Lair—"aren't real, nor are they the ghosts of my sisters."

"H-how are you sure?"

"Hannah and Beth would never say half the things they tell me."

"Like?"

"_You know what we're saying is the truth, Josh. We are your real sisters. And you are the freak of nature. Not us. You left us all alone in the mountain. You left us a die. You couldn't__—_"

"'—lift a goddamn finger to help us. You were passed out drunk because you're worthless.' That's the kind of thing they say."

There's that look on her face again. I know I've struck a nerve.

"Fuck, Josh..."

I look away. "You wanted to know what they tell me."

"And they say this to you all the time?" Jess asks.

"_All alone. We are your last allies._"

"Yes. They never stop."

"Beth and Hannah..."

"They're not... They're not as pretty as I earlier mentioned," I finally disclose.

"What do you mean?" she questions.

"Before... A month after their disappearance, they looked exactly as—"

"_Stop!_"

"—they did when I last saw them. Beautiful. Perfect. But now?"

"_You're just asking for sympathy at this point. You're not really a sad man. You just want her to think you are._"

"They're... corpses, brought to life by my own vivid imagination. I can see Hannah's skull, Beth's insides, their blood oozing out of them. What do you see when we're in this lair?"

She blinks a few times at the question. "I—I don't know. Stones? Rocks? What do you want me to say? Snow?"

"You know what I see?" I ask and she tilts her head in question. "I see blood and gore. You know what I hate the most? Blood and gore. Of course, that's what my stupid brain will show me. To make me live in my nightmare."

"_Great. Now, you're just lying at this point. You don't think you're in a nightmare. You're just saying that to win some sympathy. This isn't real. You're just making things up. We're not even here. You made us. You want us here. You want us to suffer._"

I put my hands on my head and try to dig deep into my skull because I'm fucking tired, and I'm fucking frustrated. What do I want? What am I really feeling? I don't know. I don't know anymore. I don't know what's real anymore.

"Josh? What's happening? What's wrong?" Jess asks in concern.

"_See? You like this. Like the attention. You're just acting like one of those characters in dad's dramas. Sad, pathetic, moronic, hands on their head, crying, begging for attention. You're not acting like you. You're just acting like them. To gain attention. Pathetic._"

"Jess, I'm tired. Tired of them. But I don't know what to feel about them."

"Why?"

"For one thing, I get to see my sisters. I get to hear their voices again..."

"But?"

"But they're rotten—really rotten, especially the words—the _things _they tell me. I've heard you and Emily say some pretty nasty stuff to each other, but you have no idea what it is like to hear what my sisters are saying. They're planting thoughts in my head. They're... They're making it hard for me to distinguish what's real or not—even what I feel. I don't know what to feel."

"I'm sorry."

I tilt my head at her in question. "What? Jess? W-what are you sorry about?"

"I'm sorry that this has been happening to you, and none of us were even aware of it. Some friends we are."

"No, this is my fault. I let it get past me. I practically encouraged them to grow in my head. I even stopped taking my meds."

"What?! Why would you do that?"

"Have you ever tried taking anti-depressants? They may stop me from being sad but it doesn't stop me from being numb, from being bored, from feeling like I'm not me anymore. Plus, it wasn't even helping me get rid of these corpses in my head. So, what was the point of taking something that wasn't working—something that was making me feel worse."

"Maybe you were misdiagnosed."

I sigh. "Maybe."

"...Were they ever violent?"

"So far... Physically? No. Psychologically, fucking hell yes. I watched them peel their face off to reveal their skulls. That was just before Mike found me last night. If... If I _did_ see Mike. Fuck, I don't know anymore. Hell, there's still the possibility that you aren't real and I'm just sitting in this stupid lair alone all this time. Maybe, I did kill you and you're coming back to haunt me."

"_You're a killer. You killed me, Beth, and Jess._"

"_A goddamn murderer is what you are._"

"Josh, I'm real!"

"How can you reassure me, huh?"

"Well, are they any different now that I'm here?"

I take a step back at that. "Actually, yes. Now that you've mentioned it. They're still there. Everything is still there. But they lessened. They only lessen when I'm with someone. Their attacks become less frequent, although they are more frequent now than ever before. It wasn't like what happened last night. Last night was much much worse. So yeah, having someone lessens their abuse. So maybe you_ are _real since they're acting in a way that they do when I'm with someone real."

"That's good."

"And that's why you can't leave me alone."

"...Josh?"

"We're leaving the mines."

"Josh! I already said _no._"

"You can't leave me and I can't leave you. I know we both know I'm right: that we have to leave."

"Josh, see reason—"

"No, _you _see reason! You're dying. Every minute, your body turns to ice. We still have some chances of survival when we leave the mines. Jess, we can't be found in this place. If... If I'm right... and that this is the place where Beth and Hannah died... Then we have as much chances at being found as they did. Do you want that? Do you want to die like fucking Jack Dawson from Titanic? I know you love that movie."

"Fine. Fine! You're right! Fuck, I know you're right. It's just... I'm scared."

"_You're _scared? I'm a bigger coward than you, remember?"

"Josh, you're no coward. You've been dealing with your problem on your own for who knows how long... You're living in your own personal hell but you don't bat an eye. That takes guts to keep a secret as big as that. No coward can ever withstand that long with that kind of problem."

"_You are a coward, Josh..._" I hear Chris say.

"I tried killing myself once. Doesn't that count as taking the easy way out? Doesn't that count as cowardice?" I blurt out in anger.

"_Attention-seeker._"

"Oh my God, Josh. When was this?"

I close my eyes. "You don't wanna know."

"Was that why you've been M.I.A. before the anniversary of their... you know?"

I don't answer.

"Jesus Christ, Josh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Stop... apologizing... Let's just get out of here, okay?"

"Okay."


	8. The Liar

**ASHLEY; BW BED AND BREAKFAST; 23:01  
****SIXTEEN HOURS SINCE INCIDENT**

It's been a few minutes since we came into the room after checking in. Mr. and Mrs. Washington decided to give us two large rooms—one for the boys and one for the girls—the same rule they imposed whenever we go to the Washington Mansion in California.

Before, it didn't really bother me... but now?

"It's okay. We're going to see each other in the morning, anyway," Chris reassured me when I was complaining to him about the arrangement in the middle of the Blackwood Bed and Breakfast hallway. "Although, I don't think I would do much sleeping," he continued.

"I'm about the same. Maybe I'll be outside later. I don't know," I whispered.

"Text me if you go out. I'll personally try to sleep but I'll go out when you do," Chris told me.

"No, I don't want you to lose sleep because of me," I argued.

"I don't want you wandering alone either," Chris replied. "Just... Think of it as me trying to find some more time to spend with you. Promise me you'll text me, okay?"

"Okay, I promise," I said, blushing.

I kissed him right there and then, not being able to hold it in anymore. Before he could open his eyes, I left the hallway to enter the room where Sam was (Emily was still talking to Matt in the hallway when I went into the room).

It's been a few minutes since then. Here I am, huddled on top of the bed—which is near the door, leaning on the corner of the wall behind me. My legs are folded in front of my chest and my arms are wrapped around them.

Sam is sitting in the middle of her bed—which is in the middle of the room, with her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her thighs with her fingers twiddling with each other in anxiety.

Emily is sitting horizontally at the foot of her bed—which is the one near the window, with her back leaning on the wall beside the said window. Her legs are stretched in front of her.

It's been quiet—awfully quiet.

When Emily entered the room, she gave me a quick disgusted look before claiming her bed, which is on the far opposite side wall where mine is. Sam told me it would be better off for her to be in the middle since there's some tension between me and Emily, and she has never been more right.

Ever since Emily entered the room, no one said a single word. The other two are looking at a distance, not really looking at anything. They're both deep in their thoughts.

I'm just uncomfortable with the silence.

I really am not one for silences, hence, why I talk so much. Or maybe that's because I'm socially awkward or something.

Still, I wouldn't dare break the silence since one of my roommates hates my guts. I can't even look at Emily except for that brief eye-contact we had when she came in the room.

I still hate myself for encouraging Mike to freaking kill her, but I really can't be blamed, though.

I was scared, and I thought she was going to be like those monsters. How are those wendigos any different from a zombie or a monster? Am I to be blamed for mistaking the wendigo's way of infecting everyone?

"Em, what's wrong?" Sam suddenly asks, finally breaking the silence and breaking me out of my musings.

I chance a glance at Emily. She now has her arms wrapped around herself, comforting herself by rubbing her own arms. Her knees are raised up to her chin, letting herself be smaller. I've only seen her like this once—when Mike was about to shoot her.

I've never seen her like this at any other time, but then again, after everything that happened...

"I don't know... Everything?" she replies quietly.

"Em..." Sam whispers sympathetically.

Emily shakes her head fervently. "No, no, it's just... I wish Matt was here with me." She sighs sadly.

Sam only nods in response and looks back at the ground in front of her. And we are silent once more.

"He's right across the hall," I stupidly blurt out as a way to comfort her.

Of course, that obviously backfires.

"Geez, what a fucking brilliant statement, Captain Obvious. Thank you, Brown. I'm all better now," Emily snaps sarcastically at me.

I look away from her cold piercing glare as Sam sighs, "Let's not fight, please."

I hear Emily huff in defeat. "Yeah, whatever. If only she'd stop saying stupid things."

Before I retort, Sam gives me a look and shakes her head, so I back down from saying anything.

"Anyway," Sam continues, "I understand what you mean, Em... about Matt, I mean. And Ash is right: he's just across the hall with the other boys. You're okay. He's okay. You're safe," she comforts.

"Umm, no, you don't. You couldn't understand. I want him _here_... by my side... _comforting _me. I want to hear his voice every minute. I want him to say that everything is going to be all right. How can you _possibly _understand all that?" Emily responds.

Sam doesn't reply.

"That's what I thought," Emily huffs, rubbing her arms.

I take a good look at Sam.

I've never seen her so... _heartbroken_. Her head is hanging low as she stares at her restless fingers. She looks positively hurt at Emily's words, but she's trying to hide it under a strong persona. It would have worked on me if I didn't know her long enough to see when she's trying to be strong.

Her eyes—there's a sort of longing in them. I know that kind of longing in her gaze. It's the same type of longing I've seen in the mirror whenever I thought of Chris in the past. The type I've seen in my own reflection whenever I wanted Chris to be with me even when I knew that was impossible since I didn't even know if he reciprocated my feelings.

"Sam," I start, "you _really _understand, don't you?"

She keeps silent.

Who else could it be but—

"Josh," I whisper. Both Emily and Sam look at me at that. "Were you and Josh... you know... Did you guys have a thing?"

Even Emily seems interested at my words. I can see through my peripheral vision how she stops making herself small and decides to sit at the side of the bed with her feet flat on the floor. She has her full attention on us now.

"Sam?" Emily probes after five minutes of silence.

"No," Sam finally replies after a beat or two. "I did, though."

How do you explain what I am feeling? I'm both surprised but also... not? I've been speculating about this for a long time, but it still surprised me to hear that I was right.

"Did you really?" Emily asks in the softest tone I have ever heard her use.

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam whispers.

"Jesus, you sound like Chris," I comment. "It'll help, you know—talking about it."

"Yeah, I won't even deny that the bitch is right," Emily adds, expertly knowing how to insult me even when we are on the same page.

"I've had enough talking from Mike to last a lifetime, so will you please let this one go?" Sam pleads with a sigh.

"Mike," Emily growls with a roll of her eyes, "he doesn't know a thing or two about what to talk about, or how to talk about it to people."

"Yes, well, I've talked to him about this, and I've had enough," Sam replies.

"You're clearly still bothered by it," I point out. "It'll help to talk to us, girls, about it. Maybe, we can even shed some light into it? I don't know. Just talk to us."

"You two really won't let this go, will you?" Sam tells more to her legs than at us. She sighs when both Emily and I hum in response. "Fine," she says, but she doesn't elaborate on anything.

"When did it happen?" I persist.

She shrugs before shaking her head and straightening her shoulders—soldiering on—putting on a mask for us. "I don't know... He and I were always close, especially since the twins used to bring me at their house all the time, you know all that."

"But?" Emily asks.

"But what?" Sam asks.

"I can hear a 'but' at the end there," Emily points out softly.

Sam sighs and looks at the floor. "But... when the twins were gone... when they disappeared... I guess you could say that we—I don't know—ran into each other's arms for comfort. He told me that I was the one person who understood him. Fuck, I hate this," she whispers, raising her head and blinking which could only mean that she is trying not to let her tears fall. "He didn't deserve what he got."

"He hurt us," I remind her, confused at how she seems to already forgive him after everything he did to us—to me, "you especially. Didn't you say he chased you around the lodge while you were practically naked?"

"Oh my fucking God, Ashley, can you be any more insensitive?" Emily snaps.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I may be a bitch but, at least, I'm honest about it. Not like you, you lying _bitch_," she continues.

"Excuse me?!" I snap back. "How the hell am I a lying bitch?"

"Guys, come on..."

Emily ignores Sam. "Because out of all of us, you're the most insensitive... _heartless_... bitch here but you mask it underneath all that fake sweet personality of yours."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you fucking do!" She raises her finger as if to count. "First, you tell Mike to shoot me. Then, you try to hide the fact that the wendigo bites aren't infectious. And now, you fucking tell Sam that Josh deserves to die! What's next? You think Hannah was an idiot for dying?"

I don't answer. Because she's right. Deep down, I do think it wasn't our fault that Hannah ran into the woods, half-naked and upset. She could have gone to her room but no, she overreacted and went to the woods instead.

But I'm not gonna say that, because that's wrong.

Besides, I still feel that we're partially at fault for what happened.

"Oh my God… Oh my God, you do! You _do _think that, don't you?" Emily asks in disbelief.

"I don't!"

"I knew it," she scoffs. "Ha! If only Chris can hear you now. He wouldn't stay a single minute with you if you showed him your true colors!"

The words hit home. "I don't think that! Hannah didn't deserve the fate she got!" I argue, telling her the truth.

Hannah didn't deserve dying or turning into one of those wendigos. I don't think she's an idiot for dying. I just think that maybe, she overreacted.

"Guys, please, can we not?" Sam stops us from further fighting. She turns to look at me. "Hannah didn't deserve the fate she got, that's true—but neither does Josh."

I look away, suddenly remembering the saws and the gun and the—oh my God, oh my God!

"You weren't there," I finally snap. "You didn't know what he did to me and Chris. There were saws everywhere. There was _blood _everywhere. He made us think he was dead!"

"I saw him die, too, you know," Sam suddenly says, surprising me and Emily.

"What?" Emily asks. "Oh my God, what?"

Sam sighs. "Before he chased me, he showed me a video—a video of him being sawed in half. You know how that felt?" We don't answer. "Pretty awful."

"Sam, I'm… I didn't know…" Emily whispers in horror. "And you like him?"

Sam nods.

"Fuck, that's terrible," Emily says, moving to sit beside Sam and rubbing her back.

Sam turns to look at Emily and removes her hand. "I'm fine, Em. Don't worry about me."

"You've been holding that back for, about sixteen hours now? Of course, I'll worry," Emily scolds.

Sam chuckles, "Thanks, I guess, but seriously, I'm fine."

"I heard Chris is fine, too," I point out. They look at me, immediately understanding what I'm trying to say.

"Yeah, Sam," Emily starts, "we're all fucking fine here."

Sam groans. "You sound like Mike."

Emily scoffs. "Don't even think about comparing me to that prick."

She gives a little chuckle. "Sorry."

"Yeah." Emily goes back to her spot, probably not wanting to aggravate Sam further.

"Do you… Do you _still _like him?" I ask cautiously.

Because I, for one, absolutely hate him.

Sam shrugs. "I don't want to think about it."

"I just don't understand how you can forgive him so quickly," I blurt out, completely flabbergasted.

"Who says I forgive him?" Sam points out. "Well, I don't know what to feel about him, if I'm being honest. Maybe I do forgive him. He was just crying out for help, anyways. But it doesn't mean I won't forget what he'd done."

I shake my head.

"Ash, I know it's different with you. I mean, he only chased me. You were tied up and even punched. I understand why you feel this way," Sam continues.

"Yeah, well, I suppose something good happened out of all this," I mutter, thinking of Chris and our newfound relationship.

"Are you seriously going to ignore the fact that two of us are missing?" Emily asks harshly.

"I'm just _saying_: there are some good things that came out of this hell. I'm not dismissing the bad ones, but I sure as hell am not ignoring the good ones either."

Emily looks away and turns to look out the window.

I sigh. "I'm gonna go out."

"What? Now?" Sam asks in concern.

"Not _out_-out. Just out in the lobby or somewhere in this place. I don't think I can handle going out at night at this point," I tell them.

"Okay, just be careful, okay?" Sam says. Emily gives me a long hard stare and I can tell for sure that she wishes I'd go out and be eaten by the wendigos.

I take out my phone and text Chris.

Just as I go out in the hallway, the door to the boys' room opens, revealing a tired Chris.

"I think it's a bad idea," he suddenly says.

"A simple hello would be better, Chris," I joke.

"What?" he asks me. "Oh no, I was talking to myself."

"What's the bad idea?" I ask instead, going towards him.

"Leaving Matt and Mike alone. Those two had been fighting nonstop since we were in the same room. How are you and Em?" he asks me, taking both of my hands.

"As okay as it can be with Em angry at you, I suppose," I reply with a shrug.

"That bad, huh?"

"Yup… So, where do you wanna go?"

Chris shrugs. "You're the one who wanted to go outside."

"And you don't? I'm sorry if I made you."

"No, no, not at all!" he chuckles. "It's been difficult trying to stop the fight between the two brawns in there. They're not even listening to me. I've had enough. I wanted to try sleeping but I saw your text. I don't even think I'd be able to sleep with them arguing." He rolls his eyes.

"We can stay at the lounge near the balcony," I suggest.

"Sounds good to me."

We pass through the hallways hand-in-hand, not once speaking to each other before we reach the lounge where the big balcony is. I sit on one of the couches—the one where I won't see the view of the dark outdoors—and Chris sits beside me.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in, placing a kiss on my forehead.

I feel him tremble.

"Chris, what's wrong?"

He sighs. "Nothing, really. I just can't stop thinking about everything that happened last night."

"I get what you mean. I can't stop thinking about the saws, and the blood, and the gore. Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick," I whisper.

Chris immediately turns on his seat to look at me attentively. "Are you okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom or something?" he asks worriedly and urgently.

I shake my head. "No, no, I'm fine." I wince at the word. "At least, physically."

Tentatively, I feel more than see Chris raise a hand towards my face. I wince as his thumb brushes the bruise on my eye, and he quickly follows it up with a quiet, "Sorry."

"What's up?" I whisper as he looks at my bruise. I turn my head insecurely, getting conscious about it. But Chris only turns my head to look at him.

"I wish he didn't punch you," he growls.

"I wish he didn't either," I reply. Then again, I _did _stab him in the shoulder, but who cares at this point? He deserves a whole lot worse than a simple stab with a pair of scissors.

"If it makes you feel any better, I gave him a small punch in the face for that," he replies.

I smile. "Gee, thanks, my knight and shining armor."

He gives out a small laugh. "Always a pleasure to please," he replies, somehow gaining back his sense of humor out of all this.

"How have you been?" I ask him worriedly.

He hasn't been the same since last night. In all honest, none of us are, but he had never had a panic attack before. Watching him struggle to breathe because of a memory was something that broke my heart into pieces. I've had my fair share of panic attacks the past few hours, but the ever-so confident and calm Chris?

"I could be better," he finally answers after a few minutes of silence, the gush of wind from outside the window behind us as the only sound we could hear.

"You never did tell us what you think about when you have a panic attack," I point out.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I mean, I promise I'll tell you… someday, but not today, okay?" he asks me softly.

"Okay," I whisper. "But are you going to be? Okay, I mean?"

"I should be asking you that."

"No, we should be asking that of each other," I point out. "Just promise me to tell me when you're not okay, okay? We're gonna make it through this together."

"Together."

* * *

_**AN: I'm sorry for making Ashley sound bitchier than how she is portrayed, but her honest stats fall whenever she tries to be concerned and what-not towards Hannah's situation, and I have to write it as how the character goes.**_


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